


Daemon

by Macx



Series: The Post War Arc [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is good and what is evil? Where can you draw the line? And where *do* you draw it?<br/>Welcome to the introduction of a Sentinel out of the past .... a past horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daemon

Now:

Dr. Rhyan Masters stood in the empty and twilightish hangar-like lab complex. The medical bay of West Central, normally a place of bustling activity, shouted orders, complaining patients and difficult research. It was late and the vastness of the place was made particularly oppressive by its emptiness. It wasn't really empty. There was personnel around, like the Decepticon medic having the night shift, but there were fewer people here anyway. It was silent, everything tuned down....   
Rhyan wandered aimlessly around the still too unfamiliar place, content to let the slightly drab walls drain all possibilities of analytical thought from his mind. Thinking was dangerous tonight; memories hidden safely in the recesses of his mind had been brought to the surface by the stress of the last few weeks, and it was taking all of his willpower to shove them back where they belonged. He knew he wasn't the only one to remember and that was what had brought him here.   
A low, eerie moan from a nearby lab stopped him in his tracks. It was a moan like someone in terrible pain and made the hair on his neck stand on end.   
He knew who it was.   
His mind flashed.....

.....

Then:

The Port of Authority Bus Depot was bustling with people, though it didn't appear overly crowded. At this time of the day, late in the morning, most of the shuttle busses were still to come, though a few had arrived recently. It would be more than crowded in one or two hours. Passengers for future departures and waiting friends or relatives sat or strolled around in the waiting area. One of the waiting men was studying the time table for the arrivals. The bus he was waiting for would arrive in about ten minutes.   
"Dr. Rhyan Masters?"   
The dark-haired man turned around, a surprised look on his face. The speaker was about his height, blond and casually dressed. He looked like all the other people in the waiting area.   
"Yes?" Rhyan answered cautiously.   
"Would you please accompany me?" the non descript stranger asked politely.   
He frowned. "Accompany you? Where to? Is something the matter? And who are you?"   
The blond smiled. "Somebody wants to talk to you. If you would now follow me ...?" He was still polite, but something about him made Rhyan feel very itchy.   
"You still haven't answered my question. Where are we going? And why?"   
The smile faded a bit and Rhyan noticed the hard look in the other man's gray eyes. "Please don't make this harder on yourself   
than necessary, Dr. Masters. Follow me." His right hand touched his sports jacket and revealed a gun. For just a second Rhyan saw the weapon until the man hid it under the jacket again.   
"What's going on?" he wanted to know, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and suppressed anger. "Who are you?"   
The stranger still smiled. "I will take you to someone who will explain everything to you, Dr. Masters. Now ....?" He made an inviting gesture and Rhyan started to walk. His mind reeled as he wondered what was going on and what would await him. Why would an armed stranger threaten him? And had he really threatened him? No, he had simply asked to accompany him.   
Rhyan noticed they were leaving the waiting area and passing through one of the corridors leading to the bus departure area. There were only a few people in sight, but Rhyan didn't even try to signal any of them that he was in trouble. If this guy started shooting around the passenger area, who knew what could happen? They left the corridor and passed through a door, suddenly standing on the parking spot for the shuttle busses. One of the busses just left while another arrived. As the passengers got out and lined up around the bus to receive their baggage the man hissed: "Don't try to warn anyone, Dr. Masters."   
Well, that was a threat, Rhyan decided. Whatever was going on, it wasn't a joke, that much was for sure. He simply nodded and walked past the passengers. The man gave him a little push in the direction of the shuttle garage where the busses were lined up for servicing.   
"Listen," Rhyan tried to start a conversation again, "whatever is going on here I think you're making a big mistake."   
The blond smiled again. "I don't think so."   
They had arrived at the depot and Rhyan spotted a gray, non descript hover car with New York license plates beside a bus. There was still no-one around. As they reached the car, Rhyan decided that he had to do something. This guy was kidnapping him, for God's sake! A small part of Rhyan's mind reminded him of the fact that the stranger was armed, but another part told him that the weapon was concealed under the jacket and that if he acted quickly, the stranger would have no chance to pull and fire it.   
As they stopped by the car, which, Rhyan noted, was empty, he tensed, ready to act. Either the stranger had predicted this or he was simply being cautious; he suddenly held a piece of cloth over Rhyan's mouth and nose. Masters struggled, trying to get away from the man, but the slim figure of the blond belied his strength. He held on to Rhyan, pressing the cloth on his face, ignoring the feeble punches.   
Rhyan's world tilted sideways as he lost consciousness, barely aware of falling to the ground. His last conscious sensation was that of being bound and gagged and then thrown into the car.   
Everything around him blacked out.

* * *

Former EDC Colonel Ian McCormack entered the vast lab complex of the Nevada Project facility, whistling softly. It was a particularly good day for him, especially since he had just managed to evade the Board of Directors, handing them over to the care of one of his assistants. McCormack was no longer on 'active duty' as he always told everyone, but he was still an essential part of Special Detail Devision. He had risen from field agent to head a small group of specialists, called Project, those who now did a job he had done years before. He rarely went out into the field himself anymore and sometimes he missed it, but he had had to realize that he wasn't growing any younger. And cybernetic body parts or not, his organic body would always slow down the rest. At nearly fifty he was still a symbol of absolute health and he worked out regularly, but he had finally handed over the job to others.   
His team consisted of five individuals, each special, each unique in their way, each needing different approaches. That those five people were able to work together, even deliver results, was even more amazing. Special Detail Devision kept a wary eye on Project and McCormack was always fighting with the Board about continued funding. He knew Project was not generally approved of, but he would try and keep it running, whatever the cost. They had come too far for giving up now.   
"Colonel!" someone now called and he smiled as he discovered the woman in the work overall. Her face showed some smudges and the overall had also seen better days.   
Her name was Julia Walker, computer engineer, part-time tech advisor for the team, and a wizard when it came to hacking. Her abilities to get into virtually every system had earned her the name Mage. Before Ian had discovered her and convinced the Board that she was a good addition to his team, Julia had broken into more government computer systems than anyone could count. She simply loved to play with everything technical.   
"Hi, Mage. Where is Peter?"   
"Taking Daemon for a test drive."   
McCormack nodded. "Is Rhyan home yet?"   
She shook her head and cleaned her hand on a rag. "Nope. Haven't seen him since yesterday. He wanted to pick Sandra up from the bus."   
McCormack frowned. "Sandra called me. Rhyan wasn't there. She took a taxi."   
Now it was Mage's turn to frown. "But Rhyan didn't call home..... Think something happened?"   
Ian wasn't sure. If Daemon had been with Rhyan he would have denied it immediately, but Daemon had been scheduled for an overhaul. Rhyan had argued with him when he had tried to accompany the young engineer that he should stay and had finally taken one of the company cars.   
"I'll see if I can locate him," he then said, slightly pre-occupied. It wasn't like Rhyan not to call in if he was staying somewhere else.   
"Maybe he told Daemon where he went...." Mage said.   
"Maybe." Somehow Ian didn't believe it. "Let me know when Peter's back from the test drive."   
"Will do."   
McCormack left the lab and passed a hangar-like hall where Daemon usually sat. In the distance he could see a tiny spec of black and a large cloud of dust.   
"Well, looks like he is back already," Ian muttered and sat down on an old box to wait for the test team to return.

......

Now:

That was how it had started and from then on it had only grown worse. Rhyan briefly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Now he walked slowly into the lab, not to startle the only occupant there.   
The lab was gigantic compared to the ones he was used to. Everything here was larger than normal and it was something he needed getting used to. Maybe he would soon leave it all behind, maybe he wouldn't. Rhyan wasn't sure. Things had started to change dramatically in the last weeks and he couldn't see a specific point they were heading to. Too much had changed too quickly and was again changing other things. He sighed.   
In the middle of the room stood a gleaming midnight blue and pitch-black BMW 850 CSI. And it was the source of the low moaning. A horizontal bar of faceted blue light was quivering in the front grille, not running from left to right as usual, and the few functional monitors displayed shivers.   
"Daemon?" Rhyan asked quietly and touched the cool metal skin.   
A soft, keening noise came from the car.   
"It's okay now. You're okay. Let it go," Rhyan whispered.   
"I can't," was the moaned reply. "It's there, and it hurts so much."   
Rhyan felt a stab of shared pain inside him. He wished there was something he could do; really do. He wished Daemon would follow his instincts, would let his old self flow back at least in a part. He was two pasts, two souls, trapped in a body that was now finally taking shape as it had been before.   
"Open the door."   
The door clicked open and Rhyan grabbed what seemed to be a net of wires from a table. He sat down on the black seat and looked at the madly gleaming lights as the door closed after him. Carefully he strapped the wire net on his hands, feeling the cool touch of metal.   
The moans were becoming shrieks all of a sudden and the single monitor screen was a whirlpool of agonizing pictures. Most dominant was the picture of fire and death.   
"Shh...." Rhyan said softly and activated the links, depressing a button on the dashboard.   
He wished he could erase the events of the past just like that as well. He hadn't been part of some of the events personally, but he had been told. He knew.

.....

Then:

"General Frank Harris," Peter read. "Retired."   
"He was released of his duties dishonorably," McCormack told him and Peter looked up.   
"What for? And why isn't it in his files?"   
The older man smiled slightly. "Because of the circumstances. Harris was the one who was constantly in contact with Special Mobile Command. He was one of the military officials very much interested in attaining the blueprints of Daemon. He was incredibly excited over the possibilities Daemon's technology and weaponry. Harris was the driving force behind getting the prototype as an offensive land vehicle."   
"I see. But the SMC didn't sell...."   
McCormack nodded. "Harris tried different ways to convince them. When they declined and when the army decided to no longer pursue it because they were working on their own version of Daemon, Harris became furious. Bribery and threats followed. And then he tried to steal the prototype."   
"Which didn't work," Sandra concluded.   
"But nearly. It resulted in a terrible explosion and several smaller ones, nearly killing two people, crippling one." McCormack's voice grew heavy. "The army charged Harris with a long list of accusations. He was tried and found guilty of 99% of them."   
"And they kicked him out. Nice. So now he's back and trying to take revenge?" Peter asked. "Awfully long time..."   
"Maybe. I'm not sure what he plans exactly and it's your job to find that out," McCormack said. "We know he has moved back here, that he came into contact with dubious groups and he has asked around for some specialists, especially with army background."   
"And you think they have Rhyan?" Mage now asked. She had been silent the whole time.   
"Think about it," the Project leader said. "Daemon runs out on us, he closes down all means of tracking him and Rhyan disappeared without a trace. From what we recorded before Daemon shut us out he received a coded call from an unknown satellite source. We start going over it, trying to find out who sent it, and find that the company owning the satellite upholds contacts to Harris." Ian rubbed his forehead. "Harris has been planning lately. We are keeping an eye on him and he never crossed the line to a point where we could get him, but I think he's after something big."   
"So what do we do now?"   
"Find Harris."

.....

Now:

The link stood and almost immediately, the shrieks died down, mere whimpers of deep emotional pain now.   
"Rhyan....?" Daemon choked.   
"I'm here. I won't leave," Rhyan calmed his friend.   
"Why does it come back?" The voice, normally so cold-edged and controlled was weak and desperate now. "Why now?"   
"It's called nightmares, my friend." Rhyan gently touched the dashboard and stroked it in a soothing manner, the net relaying the sensations to Daemon. "They will pass."   
Daemon seemed to shudder. "When?"   
"There are two ways for you to deal with them: work through what happened, with help – I won't let you do it alone. Or erase everything."   
There was a short silence. "I can't."   
Rhyan cocked his head.   
"I can't ...erase them. I can't wipe my mind," Daemon said with a tremor in his voice.   
"Then you have to deal with what has happened. Like all of us," Rhyan told him, never ceasing the gentle motions of his hand. "And you have to accept yourself."

.....

Then:

Daemon sat in the room, his sensor optics fixed on his friend, the one he trusted explicitly. Rhyan was bound up, his body already showing extensive bruising and the pain signals coming in gave Daemon an idea what he had gone through. His vital-signs scanner was on full, noting the human's condition.   
"Your friend's health depends on you, Daemon," Harris now told him. "Surrender or he'll suffer."   
"I have no obligations to human life," Daemon stated flatly, his voice as close to emotionless as he was able to.   
Harris smiled and nodded at the man standing behind Rhyan.   
Rhyan's scream of pain echoed through the room and through Daemon's audio receptors. Simultaneously, the pain signals came in through the bionic link. No one could see him flinch and he bit back a moan, but the shudders of agony were almost overwhelming. The statistics dropped abruptly before catching themselves again. Shock, blood loss, nausea, extreme physical fatigue .... all combined in the worst possible way for his partner.   
"Well?" Harris asked.   
"Injuring him won't get you anywhere," Daemon told him, voice neutral and cold.   
"Oh, I think it will. Either you will cooperate or you can watch him die slowly... agonizingly...." Harris smiled cruelly. "I don't need him. My technicians can maintain you."   
"Human life does not count," Daemon stated. Inside of him, desperation grew. It was as if he could feel Rhyan lose blood through the wound.   
The mad general nodded again and this time the scream was choked into a sob. Rhyan slumped over, breathing hard. Daemon's sensors took in every single injury. Blood loss, broken bones, gun shot trauma..... He required immediate medical attention.   
"What do you want?" Daemon now asked.   
"Daemon, no...." Rhyan whispered.   
He was back-handed into silence. Everything started swimming in front of his eyes.   
"I want your cooperation. I have plans, great plans, and you are a part of them!" Harris declared.   
Rhyan closed his eyes in pain and Daemon knew his friend was close to slipping.   
"Let Rhyan Masters go," he now said.   
The soldier laughed. "Do you take me for such a fool? His presence is what keeps you under control!" He grinned madly. "You will do what I want or he dies."   
Daemon sat there, silently. He wished he could really say that he didn't care about Rhyan. But he did. He was the one who had always been there for him, who had talked, who had listened. He was a friend.   
"Open your doors!"   
"What for?"   
Rhyan cried out again at the new attack.   
"Stop that!" Daemon hissed.   
"Oh, so you care?" Harris chuckled. "As to the reason... you'll be transporting two of my men to a base where they will break in and get the warhead. Then you'll also get them out again. Your bullet-proof body will insure their safety and your speed will be your escape."   
"You are mad," Rhyan whispered.   
Harris approached him with his usual, sweet smile. "No, Mr. Masters. I am a genius and the world will soon know it! I will rule!"   
Their eyes met and Rhyan saw the madness in them. Total madness. The general pulled his weapon and pressed it against Rhyan's shoulder.   
"Open your doors or I'll give him a new hole...."   
Daemon screamed silently inside the world of the CPU. Then his doors clicked open. Harris grinned even more and secured his gun.   
"Thank you. Get him to a holding cell until we're back!" the general then ordered and Rhyan was dragged away.

......

Now:

The memories of his injured friend were alive in his mind, never to be taken away from him. Daemon screamed silently as he replayed those moments over and over again, torturing himself with what happened.   
He was aware of Rhyan's presence. Rhyan alive. Healed. With him.   
He sobbed softly.

.....

Then:

Daemon didn't know what to do. He had to follow the orders because otherwise Rhyan would die. But even if they came out of this and the general had his weapons, Daemon knew that Masters would still die. It was a dead end either way, only that his friend's death would not be immediate. He had not shut down the pain sensors, the dull throbs a reminder of what Rhyan had gone and was still going through.   
I'll get you out if this, he vowed silently.

[FLASH!]

They broke into the military compound, the contacts inside were already waiting, and they got out unscathed. Daemon felt laser bullets bounce off his armor, but they were nothing but flies.... things that bothered him but didn't hurt. His speed let his pursuers fall back and he heard the two passengers' cheers. He wanted nothing more than to eject them.   
"Hey, we got a pursuer!" one of them suddenly called.   
"What?" The other turned in his seat and peered through the back window. "Darn, it's the army!"   
Daemon felt a jolt. A wild idea lodged itself into his mind. Help..... but if he let the two thugs get caught now, Rhyan would still be a prisoner.....   
He groaned softly.   
"Damnit, go faster!" one of them now screamed and thumped the steering wheel.   
Daemon felt irrational rage rise. He squelched it with an immense effort and activated his back-ups. The black BMW shot away.

[FLASH]

They unloaded the warhead.

[FLASH]

Rhyan's vital signs dropping. Desperation rose inside of him.   
Nonono!!!   
Screams in the dark.

[FLASH]

Project coming to his aide, having found him somehow, taking on the general and his men.

[FLASH]   
[FLASH]   
[FLASH]

Now:

Rhyan felt the jolts of the nightmares and he kept on his senseless mutters, his probably meaningless words of support, friendship and love. He had his own nightmares to go through, his own pain, but he was human and used to the mind replaying stressful events.   
He knew Daemon was in a phase of denial, denying his past so he didn't have to face the future, but this was not the way. He needed to come to terms, now. He was finally able to take the last step, to be himself again .... to be a Transformer.   
Rhyan didn't want this to be denied to him again because of one single event.

.....

Then:

Rhyan stumbled out of the chair and immediately fell to his knees, doubling over in pain, nearly losing consciousness. He was alone, the guards gone to check on the cargo and he knew there was someone out there who could help him. Harris was underestimating Daemon. Severely.   
"You won't make it out of here alone," Daemon whispered in his ear. Inflections of worry could be heard.   
Rhyan nodded, very much aware of this. He tried not to breathe too deeply because every time hot pains shot from his ribs.   
"Project is on their way here. Hold on."   
Rhyan felt unable to move a finger. His body hurt, his ribs blazing with agony, and his head about to burst. He could no longer think clearly and he wished for nothing more than simply fall unconscious. But if he fell unconscious, he would be an easy target. What if the guards came back? What if they decided to finish him off?   
He moaned, crawling over to the door. The pain was excruciating and numbed his every muscle. Every move brought more pain, but he had to move, he had to get out of here. Rhyan gasped again. Blackness threatened and then engulfed him.   
He slipped into unconsciousness.

Sandra had somehow gotten to him, had managed to get him almost out of the building, Rhyan only half aware of his surroundings. His worry about Daemon had kept him going. If he slipped now .... Daemon might as well.   
And then they had run into Harris again......

"Well, Dr. Masters, Mrs. Knight, it was a pleasure to meet you," Harris sneered. "Too bad it has to end like this, but maybe it is fate."   
Sandra's face hardened. "You won't get away with this, Harris!"   
"Oh, but I will. I did it once before and I will again! SMC and Project were never able to stop me! And this time I have what I want.... the prototype!"   
"You won't be able to control him," Rhyan coughed. "If I die, he does as well."   
He was barely conscious, fighting to stay awake. He had bled through his T-shirt and sweat shirt already, continuing to lose blood.   
Harris laughed. "I don't fall for this!" He grinned. "Well, too bad you didn't die the first time. Would have kept me from having to deal with you this time."   
Rhyan's eyes flashed and he gritted his teeth. "You ...."   
Harris' smile grew even more mad. "Yes, Dr. Masters. I. It was me blowing up the lab. Sadly enough it didn't give me the time I needed to get to the prototype!" He chuckled insanely.   
An engine came to life with a high turbine whine.   
"Tell him to stand down or I'll kill him as well," Harris whispered.   
Rhyan only glared at him.   
The black BMW moved in.   
"Stop him or you're all dead!" Harris demanded, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder a the incoming vehicle. The blue sensor was moving slowly, almost threateningly, and it was as if the car's engine was hissing and growling in barely contained fury.   
It was all Sandra needed. She kicked out at the general and managed to tackle him to the ground. The BMW stopped, engine now and then howling in what seemed to be anger.   
Rhyan's voice was very low as he said, "Daemon, stop."   
The BMW advanced again.   
"Stop," Rhyan whispered, his vision growing more foggy, his whole concentration fixed on the car. He was losing blood at an alarming rate. The only real thing that kept him conscious at all was the need to stop the car.   
Sandra stumbled to her feet again, the general staying where he was, coughing. His hatred-filled eyes were fixed on the ever-closer coming BMW.   
"You hurt Rhyan," a cold voice said. There was barely any intonation of humanness, only the flat, dead statement of facts. "In the past and now. You will pay for our shared pain," he continued.   
Harris stared at the machine. Unseen from everyone, he had closed his fingers around a small, gun-shaped object.   
"I should have finished it," the general now declared.   
The engine howled.   
The madman pulled the weapon and aimed.   
Everything happened very fast and no one had any time to react.   
Two cries mixed with the roar of an engine and the screeching sound of tearing metal. One cry was from Rhyan, the other came from the artificial intelligence.   
The shot had penetrated the front scanner. It hadn't been a normal shot, but a laser guided, high impact laser bullet. Fired at almost point-blank range it penetrated the armored skin and tore a path of destruction through the delicate circuits, rocking the car.   
Shrieks of pain emitted from the machine, flames started to erupt from the engine but just as quickly as they had come they seemed to die down again. Pieces whirled off of the disintegrating car, one whistling by Sandra's ear as she threw herself onto the ground, taking Rhyan with her. A hot blast of air washed over them.   
"Mage!" she yelled into the com-link.   
Sandra checked on Rhyan. His shirt was now soaked in so much blood Sandra didn't know if he had any left in his body. Mage and Bandit popped up minutes later, shock on their smudged faces.

Rhyan felt cold... distant. His mind was fuzzy and clouded. His hands seemed to belong to someone else and his legs were .... gone. He tried to locate Daemon, but there was nothing.   
He was so weak.   
His mind was filled with memories of Daemon dying.   
No.......   
Pain returned to the numbed areas all of a sudden and he couldn't help stop himself from crying out.   
His fragile grip on consciousness was breaking and he slipped......

Twenty minutes later the ambulance arrived and the paramedics wheeled the severely injured man into the car. One of them was already calling the hospital because they needed to treat Masters on the way to the hospital and this alone showed the remaining team how bad it was. Rhyan had stayed alive through will power alone.   
With all lights flashing the ambulance left the compound.

.....

Now:

Rhyan felt Daemon quiet down now, but his own mind was once again busy with the same events. He propped himself up so he was leaning with his back against the door, his long legs curled under him, leaning slightly against the dashboard. A warm tingle flowed down his spine, emitting from the sensors in his neck and temples. It was Daemon's way to return what was given to him.   
Comfort.   
Friendship.   
Love.

......

Then:

The Project headquarters was an impressive and very old building, erected on a sprawling two hundred acres, surrounded by lush green and a small forest, keeping it separated from the rest of the world. But the most impressive and also largest structure on the premises was an enormous shell of corrugated steel that could have doubled as an airport service hangar for the largest passenger planes. It was surrounded by a lip of concrete and connected to the north to the estate's private airstrip. The eastern doors had to be at least seventy-five feet high and the whole structure dwarfed everything.   
One half of the building was a vast, open testing space, roofed and immune to weather changes. The other was a multi-storied honeycomb of laboratories, testing cubicles, experimental environments, warehouse facilities and offices. It was a small, compact research facility and also the birthplace of Daemon. Inside one of labs sat the wreckage of the black BMW 850 CSI.   
Daemon was aware to a certain degree. He knew he existed, but all his sensory inputs were cut down to a minimum. He didn't know where he was or what condition he was in. He could only guess and it frightened him. And it frightened him even more that he couldn't feel the soft presence of the Rhyan Masters. He strained his senses to catch anything through the remaining minimum of his former input.   
Desperation rose inside of him.   
He was shut off from everything.   
He was alone.   
Not, not really. Part of his links still worked and he concentrated on this single open port with all he had. The sensations coming in were not pleasant, but they enabled him to ignore everything else.

*

Mage couldn't believe what she was seeing. "What happened?" she asked, aghast.   
"Didn't Ian tell you?" Sandra asked.   
"He said there was an accident, that Rhyan is in hospital, but.... Damnit, what hit the them?!"   
"Laser-guided special capsule right through the scanner," Ian said softly and joined them.   
"Shit," she muttered and dropped the bag, walking around the wreck. "CPU integrity?"   
"Stable. Our main problem right now is Daemon's security. He wrapped himself up and is denying us access."   
Mage shook her head again. "What about Rhyan?"   
"Critical."   
She cursed once more.

* * *

The tracing on the ECG monitor was nothing but a straight line. The alarm sounded shrilly and was almost lost in the commotion now erupting.   
"Asystole!" one of the nurses called out.   
"Code 99, Shock Trauma Unit!" the doctor bellowed.   
The hospital paging unit came to life within seconds and the crash cart unit burst in. They moved into action without hesitation.

*

The screams echoed through the high security complex, bouncing off the re-enforced walls. It was a sound of utter pain, agony, and filled with the raw emotions of desperation and fear. Mage flinched and nearly dropped the tools she had been working with. It was an electronic scream, but very human in its reflections.   
It relayed what the being screaming felt and Mage felt a shudder course through her.

*

"Everybody clear!"   
The staff stepped away from the doctor holding the electric defibrilator paddles as he pressed them against the left side of their dying patient. A jolt raced through the body, making him twitch involuntarily. The tracing on the monitor twitched once.   
"Again!"

*

Mage ran to the area where the scream had emanated from, a closed-off section with restricted access. Her eyes fell on the wreckage of the car, the mutilated shell. Whimpers came from it, soft and barely audible. Daemon was in pain...   
But why? All the damaged external sensor pads had been turned off as far as she had been able to see. She didn't know about the internal ones, but even if they were damaged, wouldn't the AI have shut them off? She walked over to the monitors and made some notes.   
There were no pain signals coming from Daemon himself....   
    
*

"Piggyback a bottle of high-dose epinephrine, and titrate!" the doctor shouted.   
The pharmacist complied.   
The ER unit continued to try and safe Rhyan Masters' life.

*

Daemon gave another scream, this time shrieking so loudly Mage thought her ear drums would shatter. She moved back against the door as the engine suddenly roared into life. The car couldn't move, but the angry wail of the engine, combined with the shrieks, was slowly getting to her. Mage didn't know what to do. Then he was suddenly silent, the monitors rather calm, the engine dying down.   
"What's wrong?" Mage turned and discovered Peter running into the lab. "We heard screaming...."   
She pointed at the car. "It came from Daemon."   
Peter's eyes narrowed.   
"He felt .... pain," Mage added, sounding confused. "But ... I can't find a reason as to why....."   
"What? But...."   
She only nodded. "Those sensors damaged were taken off-line, mostly by himself. And the inside sensors we can't check are probably off-line as well. There were no signals coming in. I can't say more because he still refuses to open any section of himself."   
Daemon had quieted down by now, but they could hear a barely audible moan. Mage glanced at the screens and saw a display of wavy lines. Shudders. He was still suffering, but quietly now.   
What was going on?

* * *

Ian McCormack sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had just called Dr. Breckett and gotten the latest news on Rhyan Masters. For a while it had been touch and go, but the young man had pulled through and was expected to be out of danger within the next 24 hours. Breckett predicted a full recovery in the next three months and he should be out of the hospital in a week. Ian knew Rhyan had been in shock, had lost a lot of blood and had received severe trauma to the ribcage. It would take a long time to heal completely.   
McCormack had asked for Rhyan to be transferred to Project facilities, which featured a fully functional medical unit with medical personnel and a doctor. Breckett, knowing this, had agreed.   
With this solved, Ian had more time to think about the incident. The sudden display a of pain and desperation of the AI.... it had coincided with Rhyan's near loss. Coincidence? Really? And what would it mean if there was a connection between the two events? Were his suspicions true? If they were..... it would change some things..... But could it really be? Was it even remotely possible?   
No one knew.   
There were only suspicions, old files, half-truths....   
He sighed. He knew   
And what now?   
After a long time McCormack reached for his terminal and dialed a long number, initiating the closed channel transmission.   
"Optimus Prime? This is Ian McCormack of Project...... I think  we need your help."

* * *

Daemon was trembling, but he felt some awareness return, ever so slowly and ever so unsatisfactory. He was still experiencing flashbacks from the sensations of pain. Rhyan's pain..... Rhyan's near death.....   
He moaned. His friend was suffering and it was because of .... him....   
Time passed.   
Throughout his own pain he became also aware of someone being around him, but he had no way of finding out who it was. The connections to most of his perceptors had been severed quite thoroughly, and he saw that he wouldn't be able to repair them on his own. This was bad. The sensors and perceptors that were still online were sending out signals of agonizing pain. It was the only input he had, though it was no longer as excruciating as it had been when his front section had been torn apart, caught in a hell fire......   
Then there was his partner.... Rhyan was still hurt, he couldn't link with him and felt sensory deprivation like never before   
Could it get worse?

* * *

Matters on Cybertron were rather quiet compared to the madness reigning here a few months earlier. Of course, there were always problems. Small ones, big ones, easy ones, difficult ones, but all in all a certain peace had settled. Below was up and functioning on almost optimum levels, which gave Shockwave and Ultra Magnus time to regain their breaths. The aliens from the game had been either flown home to their home world, had set out on their own to explore the new universe they were presented with or had voted to stay for now. They were a valuable addition to the Cybertronian forces.   
Relationships with Earth had miraculously turned to a much more friendly environment and Optimus Prime sometimes wondered whether it always took extreme measures to make humans see the truth of something. The near-death of the whole diplomatic corps sent out to talk to the Cybertronians had shaken Earth governments, had opened their eyes a bit more concerning the ACL and the radical purist party was now under heavy fire back home. The main problem was that the ACL had infiltrated too many government positions, had people in high places working for them, and things were more than a bit critival right now.   
Rebuilding the South continent was a slow procedure and Optimus knew it would take some more time. Too much had been destroyed. On a much brighter note, the exploration of the doorways was proceeding. Functional doorways had been locked down, a chart had been drawn that was much more detailed, and Raven was coming closer to programming the short-cuts into the quartz cube. They still had no clue as to how the quartz cube worked and both teams voted against trying to open one -- the danger that they destroyed more than they did any good was too great.   
The Sentinels, several decades ago still looked upon with wariness and distrust, were now a part of Cybertron and their influence on the war-torn society could be called generally good. Midnight was working on their relationships among each other and he and Rodimus had achieved more than Optimus would have thought possible. The young Sentinel leader still had to fight battles, mostly among his own kind, and Gryph's return had not exactly brought joy into his life. Luckily she was mostly exploring her old new home and out of his diodes, as he had once put it.   
Everything was rather good and well.... and then he had received the call from Ian McCormack. He knew McCormack and he knew Project. They were Cybertron-friendly and McCormack had proven to be a great help back when things had grown critical for some of the Autobots on Earth. It had been twenty years ago and contact had been rather sparse, but now and then the human had simply called to talk, to give him updates and so on. What he had given him now was ..... unbelievable! And it made room for doubts and suspicions, but he didn't have time for that now. First the problem needed solving.....   
Optimus looked at Midnight. "You know him?" he asked simply.   
This was out of his depth, mainly because it concerned a Sentinel. Or at least that was what Ian McCormack guessed it concerned. The old symbol he had transmitted was a Sentinel one.   
Midnight nodded slowly. "Not personally, but I read the file concerning him. His name is Synchrony. His history is like a nightmare tale to scare others." He turned and looked at Optimus. "Synchrony was one of the first batch of Sentinels activated by the Quintessons and they were apparently so fascinated by these strange robots that they experimented on a few. Synchrony was the one who underwent the most profound changes. They.... they changed his core unit."   
Optimus Prime's optics narrowed. The core unit, the personality core, was the most protected and most sacred part of every Cybertronian. Changing it meant changing the whole bot. No one, not even a medic, would ever try and change something there.   
"How?" he now wanted to know.   
"The files are unspecific as to what was changed, only the results were noted. Synchrony lost every perception of other beings. He was single-minded in his task to preserve his own life. He would accept the death of everyone, his comrades, his masters, everyone just to save himself. He was a self-serving, emotionless creature, devoid of conscience and potentially dangerous. He was like the animalistic side of the Sentinels...." Midnight stopped, shaking his head.   
"Was? He died?" Optimus asked carefully.   
"No, he was deactivated. The Quintessons took him apart, disembodied him, so to say. His core unit was stored in a high security lock. No one knows what happened to him. He was not stored on Cybertron."   
"And now we find him on Earth, in the shell of an Earth vehicle...." Optimus looked thoughtful. "I think Ian has some explaining to do."   
Midnight nodded. "And I'd like to talk to this Rhyan Masters. In person."   
Optimus had to agree. He punched some keys on the terminal's keyboard and set up a link to Earth.

* * *

It was strange to be back on Earth. To Optimus it felt like visiting an alien world he had never seen before. Well, he hadn't been to this planet in ages .... decades. He felt a bit unwell, he had to confess, a bit exposed. Rodimus had argued quite intensely that going was too dangerous, that he would go instead, but Optimus knew Ian McCormack and he trusted the human. Going to Earth would be a secret affair, using Midnight's Gating abilities to get them as close as was possible to the Nevada base. The rest of the distance Optimus would drive, with Midnight hidden in the trailer.   
"Welcome to Project," McCormack now greeted the two robots, looking at Midnight with interest and curiosity, but no fear. Midnight was surprised.   
McCormack was a man in his fifties, brown-haired with silver streaks at the temples, a weathered face and a lean figure. There was an open smile on his face.   
"Thank you, Ian. It's been a long time."   
McCormack nodded. "Too long. Thanks for handling the matter, though I doubt Rhyan will appreciate it."   
They walked into the complex, which was a gigantic hall, accommodating the two robots easily. Part of the hall had now been set up as a conference center and Optimus and Midnight sat down.   
"What I have to tell you now will sound.... " McCormack shrugged and sighed, "well, strange might be a word. Outraging.... whatever...."   
Optimus nodded encouragingly. "You already told us about finding a Sentinel core unit. That's why were are here."   
Ian smiled wryly. "But we didn't find it just now. Or just a few years ago."   
Midnight frowned. "When?" he asked quietly.   
"In 1971."   
Both robots gaped.   
"Let me start from the beginning. In 1971 an exploration team funded by government sources began to explore the canyons of Grand Canyon. It was a team consisting of biologists, geologists and so on. They discovered a strange metal case, the size of a nuclear missile deep in one of the hidden canyons and called for help. The army appeared and disappeared two days later, taking the strange object with them. No one knows what happened and I think it was stored in those warehouses rumored to contain alien materials. When you people crashed on Earth over a decade later, the government remembered what they had found, dug it out and the SMC came into play. At the time the technology was too high and too advanced for any of us, but we learned from you and what we were given as knowledge from your people, Prime, we used to try and find out what this object was."   
"Why did you never show us and ask?" Prime asked reasonably.   
McCormack chuckled. "You know humans, Optimus. We thought it might be a weapon. Or something valuable we could use later on. We knew little about you, we were suddenly involved in a war and everyone was looking to gain an advantage."   
Optimus nodded. Yes, he understood only too well.   
"Anyway, the object was found out to be a Cybertronian core unit finally and activated. They tried to control it, they tried to explore the possibilities and their inadeptness with this strange new life almost cost them their lives. It was deactivated again and forgotten."   
"Until several years later," Midnight muttered.   
"Decades, Midnight. Over forty years later SMC dug it out again, this time a lot wiser and with a high technological background. But the same happened again. Sync, as he called himself, was not inclined to accept any other life form as equal and played with everyone. We tried to get to his core unit but it ended nearly fatally again. SMC was ready to scrap the whole idea and the AI with it, but I insisted to let Project handle this -- under SMC's supervision. It took me four years to convince them."   
"Why do all of this?" Midnight wanted to know. "You knew Synchrony was deadly."   
"Yes, but I also saw the potential. No one thought about contacting you guys and you were too busy fighting your own wars, so we thought we might battle this out with our resources." McCormack shrugged. "Dumb but simply human. Well, I brought Rhyan Masters in on the team. At first he didn't know what he was working on. Then he realized the AI was of alien origin and became fascinated. I had never seen someone so wrapped up in his work like him. He spent nights in the lab and when I found out what he was doing, I almost laughed. He read to Sync, he talked to him, asked him questions, detailed questions, about his life and times on Cybertron. It was amazing. Mostly because Sync answered. Then the accident happened. It crippled not only Rhyan but also the project. Sync didn't show any reactions to Rhyan's injury, but he also didn't react to us anymore."   
McCormack sipped at his soda and rubbed his eyes.   
"Rhyan came back after his injuries had healed, resigning from SMC completely and giving us his full time. Project and SMC separated in two totally different groups and well, here we are today."   
"So Synchrony changed into Daemon because of Rhyan?" Midnight asked.   
"Kind of. You see, Rhyan's body was badly torn and mutilated by the explosion, which we only later found out was an act of sabotage. But explaining that would go too far now. SMC's Bionic Facilities used the chance to try out something new, giving him a partially cybernetic body while leaving flesh and muscles intact. He is no superman, he has no extra strength, but he is a cyborg, so to speak. And with his cybernetic implants came the chance to merge him with the AI."   
"What?!" Optimus exclaimed, shocked.   
"Optimus, it was his idea. Before the accident we had developed a sensor net, linking those two, and it worked. Because of the sensor net Daemon was slowly coming out of the shell of Sync!" McCormack clasped his hands and looked at the two robots with a serious expression. "I didn't want it, but he convinced me in the end. And it worked. Daemon was born and there were no longer any episodes of madness. He is not a people-person, true, but he is able to care. He and Rhyan have been working together for over ten years now and there is nothing of Sync left. At least nothing lethal."   
"You thought so before."   
"Now we are sure."

* * *

The events involving the hospital were nothing but a blur for Rhyan. He remembered lights around him, people yelling for something, concerned faces..... Then nothing.   
When he had first come to he had felt a dull throb from his twisted knee and an even worse pain coming from his shoulder and arm. He had been unable to move, unable to talk. His eyes had briefly opened only to fall shut again without his doing. There had been a nurse and a doctor, voices, but he had been unable to answer.   
The next time he had been better, but still not okay. He didn't know where he was and most of all, he didn't know where Daemon was. That was even worse.   
Rhyan remembered Ian from one visit. It was brief and he felt like packed in cotton wool. Drugs.   
When he was finally fully awake, Ian McCormack was waiting for him.   
"Welcome back among the living, Rhyan," the former Colonel greeted him. The smile was genuine, but there was an underlying worry in it.   
"Daemon," Rhyan said in a near-whisper. "What happened to him."   
Ian briefly closed his eyes. Then he gave him a brief version of the past events. Rhyan's eyes widened.   
"You called the Autobots?!" he finally exclaimed.   
"Rhyan, we both know that it would come to this one day. Daemon is Cybertronian, though as far from any Autobot I ever met as can be. He is different, but he is no Earth computer. I looked up the symbol we found on the CPU and it looks like he is a Sentinel. And you know what that means."   
Rhyan stared at him. "And....?" he asked.   
"And he started to go over the edge when you slipped."   
Rhyan was stunned. "He ... felt it?"   
McCormack nodded.   
"And you think....?"   
He nodded again. "I'm not sure, but I think you should go to Cybertron...."   
"I don't have any other choice," Rhyan stated quietly. "Nothing can keep me from going there."

* * *

F/X sat outside the heavily secured lab, not allowed to enter – for safety reasons, as Optimus Prime had called it. Considering his memories of Synchrony this was the most logical decision.   
They had brought the wreckage of Synchrony to Cybertron under heavy security, though getting him off Earth had been difficult but not impossible. Midnight had simply Gated him. Synchrony had been quiet throughout it all, no reaction at all from him. He had also defied every attempt to contact him and since F/X was the one who knew him best from their past as Quintesson slaves, he wanted to try and talk to him. And they needed to talk to him. His involvement with Project, with Rhyan Masters, everything .... it was more than curious.   
Synchrony had risked his own life to save two humans, something going totally against every former experience with him! He had been ready to die.....!   
"Synchrony?"   
There was only silence.   
"I know you can hear me."   
More silence. F/X waited. He thought he felt something.   
"Leave me alone."   
Those three words told the other Sentinel more than any lengthy speech. First of all, the voice he had heard was totally unlike Synchrony's old voice. It wasn't emotionless, cold and without any inflection. It was dark, male, almost human. The flatness of the past was gone. He could hear nuances in it, a shakiness, a tremor..... pain......   
"So you have returned," F/X sent through the link.   
No answer.   
"You have changed," F/X smoothly changed the subject, trying another approach. "You actually saved two lives with your actions."   
"It was not intended," was the reply, sounding almost hostile.   
"I don't believe you, Synchrony."   
"Stop calling me Synchrony!" the other Sentinel hissed.   
He had drawn a reaction. An interesting one. F/X frowned slightly. "What do you want to be called?"   
Again silence.   
"What is your connection to Rhyan Masters?"   
"None of your business," Daemon/Synchrony replied with growing hostility.   
F/X knew he could take only a few more steps before Synchrony would shut him out completely.   
"You have a very close bond, don't you. Are you Interfaced?"   
F/X doubted the Interface because there were no indicators, especially from Masters, but you never knew. He knew about the implants, a fascinating bond, but an Interface....   
"Shut....up....!!"   
F/X waited. Nothing more came. He felt tremors again and he knew there was a lot of uproar inside the other Sentinel. Very interesting....   
"I will leave you alone," he then informed the other one. "In case you want to talk, you know where to reach me."   
There was no reply.   
F/X sighed and cut the link.

* * *

"Okay, these are the facts," First Aid said and gave each member of the Council present a sheet. "Daemon is a Sentinel core unit in a reinforced Terran vehicle body shell. The body shell looks normal but isn't. You can see the technical data. It's far above any type of regular construction we know. The body material is virtually indestructible, though a close proximity laser bullet, like the one entering through the front scanner, can damage the shell. Would the bullet have been fired from further away, it might not even have dented the material. The base compound is a variation of the Plasteele we know and his general frame tolerance and yield point are incredible."   
Midnight read the data and finally nodded. "But he can't transform?"   
"No."   
"Interesting facts," Optimus muttered. "Could you give him transformation?"   
Midnight shot him a sharp look but Prime ignored it. First Aid seemed to frown.   
"Possible. I could construct a body shell that allows him to transform from his vehicle mode to a Cybertronian, but he would never be a Sentinel. And he is a Sentinel. It would not be right to put him into such a shell."   
"What about Protogen?" Midnight asked carefully. "It's based on Sentinel technology and mixing it with Cybertronian basic shells.... it would mimic a Sentinel body, I guess."   
Now it was Optimus Prime's turn to give him a surprised look.   
"Possible. I'll have to talk about it with Disaster." First Aid made a few notes. "I'll get back to you about it."   
"Thank you, First Aid."   
The medic left again.   
"I thought you'd object to giving Daemon a Cybertronian body," Optimus now turned to Midnight, eyes smiling in amusement.   
Midnight sighed. "I was about to, but it's not that easy. Daemon is Synchrony and Synchrony is a Sentinel. He is one of my kind. I can't just deny him this chance to be what he is supposed to be." He made a weak gesture. "I know his past, both pasts, as a Sentinel and as Daemon. I can't judge him like this. Not from papers." He met Optimus' serious blue optics. "Too many have done this with me in the past and I won't let this happen to anyone else, regardless who he was or is."   
"I understand. Dr. Rhyan Masters is already on his way here and I think we should talk with him as well...."   
"About the transformation?" Midnight wanted to know.   
"About everything."   
Midnight nodded.

* * *

Rhyan arrived on Cybertron a day later. Part of him was curious, even excited to go, mainly because it might mean something very big happening to his friend; but the other part, the much larger part, was terribly afraid of what might happen. Mage had come with him, telling both him and McCormack that she as needed. Daemon's body had not been repaired at any time and though his CPU was most likely stable and the Cybertronians wouldn't hurt him, he would also not let them touch him. She knew Daemon. There were only two mechanics allowed to do that: Mage and Bandit.

It was the first time Andrea Shanygn met Rhyan Masters in person. The picture she had seen in the file she had dug up had shown a lanky teenager with much too serious eyes for his age. He had been seventeen when he had been employed by SMC and had joined the Daemon project. He had been a quiet boy, as the team psychologist had noted in one of the files, but strong and strangely empathic when it came to the AI.   
Then the accident had happened. A lab had blown up, nearly killing two technicians, crippling one forever. Rhyan Masters had been rushed to hospital immediately, but he had lost a lot blood and had fallen into a coma for weeks. His left knee had been totally busted, his left ribcage shattered. He had been between life and death for weeks and whatever had saved him, the doctors called it luck and his will to survive. Project had made it possible for him to get the best possible treatment, repaying what they had thought of as a debt to a brilliant young man.   
Rhyan had been confined to a wheelchair at first, then, after another set of surgeries at the SMC Bionic Facilities, he had been able to walk again. Masters' knee was now supported by cybernetic implants, his ribs had been replaced, and several more body parts had been affected by the surgery. He had then worked for the SMC a few more months, but had resigned after the Daemon project had been once more terminated. He had been twenty then.   
The man facing her now was tall, with thick black hair and blue eyes. His handsome face showed some hard angles and his lips were a bit thin. He was ruggedly handsome in a way. There was a scar over one eyebrow and one at the throat. Shanygn wondered how many scars he still had from the accident over ten years ago. Rhyan was resting his weight on a walking crutch, a bruise showing on his face. It were the only outside signs of his injuries, but beneath his clothes he had more.   
A young woman was accompanying him. Her kind of mousy hair looked like a wild mop, the eyes were blue and somewhat watery, and glasses adorning her nose. She had an old backpack slung over her shoulder and cast curious looks around. If Shanygn had met her anywhere she would not have seen anything special in her. Nothing outstanding, all very normal, almost non-descript.   
"Hi," Rhyan now greeted her, looking around.   
Shanygn saw that he was curious, that he was fascinated, but there was an underlying worry there.   
"Hello, my name is Shanygn. You are Dr. Rhyan Masters?" She smiled at him.   
He nodded and accepted the handshake. "This is Julia Walker, out chief technician. I guess there are a lot of people expecting explanations right now...."   
Shanygn nodded. "They are waiting in the conference center. I'm your guide for now. Hope you don't mind."   
He grinned. "No."   
She found his grin quite cute. "Then follow me."   
Shanygn led their guests down to the conference levels, explaining some things, informing Rhyan and Julia about the general outline of West Central to give him an idea where he was and answered his questions. He didn't mention Daemon with a word, but she knew from his still-present worry that he was not at ease -- and that it had nothing to do with this strange, new world.   
The conference room, one of the smaller ones, was only occupied by Optimus Prime and Midnight. Rodimus was still busy with the doorways and Optimus had told him quite clearly that his presence was not required.   
The introductions were handled quickly and Shanygn sat down as well. She would simply sit in with the others and watch. Optimus had only smiled when she had made the offer and agreed. He probably guessed that she was a link for Rodimus because he wasn't present in person. Julia sat down as well, silent and almost invisible. Optimus and Midnight simply accepted her presence.   
"Ian McCormack probably informed you of what this is all about," Optimus Prime now started.   
Rhyan nodded. "Daemon."   
Now it was Optimus' turn to nod. "He contacted us because of several events concerning you and the entity you call Daemon."   
"And Daemon is a Sentinel called Synchrony," Midnight now said, his optics locked on Rhyan.   
Rhyan didn't voice a sudden protest, he didn't flinch, he didn't look down in shame. He only met the other's optics and finally nodded.   
"In a rough sense of the word, yes. But then again, he isn't."   
"A new body and some color don't change the facts, Mr. Masters," Midnight said coolly.   
He raised an eyebrow at him. "Who says that's all that happened?"   
"Mr. Master, I read the files concerning Daemon, at least those Mr. McCormack gave us. A lot was lost in bureaucracy," Midnight told the human. "You and I both know Synchrony is a danger to society! I don't know how you came across the wreck and I don't know how you managed to retrieve him, but the robot sitting in the lab is a time bomb!"   
Rhyan's face grew suddenly mask-like. "This 'robot' as you call it, is a living being. How he came to be back among us is none of your business and I don't think you hold any property claims on him! "   
"Mr. Masters...."   
"No, Prime!" Rhyan said forcefully. "If Daemon were a reborn Sentinel with another past you wouldn't be so hell-bent on proving he is a deadly killer! How can you possibly know what he is like? You only know his past and you know horror stories about him! You didn't rebuild him, coax him out of an almost catatonic state, tried to give him back trust in another being again! Daemon is not Sync anymore! He has his temper, he has his moods, but he is not a single-minded, self-centered killer! Why don't you try and forget this for once and focus on what's really going on?"   
Midnight and Optimus were stunned by the emotional outbreak. Rhyan was clearly agitated.   
"What exactly is your connection with Daemon?" Midnight now asked calmly.   
Rhyan inhaled deeply. "Long story. It has to do with my past.... my connection with SMC and Project...."   
Rhyan Masters had gotten to know Ian McCormack when he had been only fourteen. Rhyan Masters had been one of the so-called Whiz Kids, over-talented, brilliant children. The SMC, always on the look-out for potential new forces, had founded a program to explore their genius, use it, and Rhyan had met him when he had entered the program. At the age of fifteen he had been top of his class in computer programming and engineering, but he had felt alone. He had felt an outsider. He had hated his genius because it denied him a normal childhood. Unlike most of the Whiz Kid teenagers he had also found a liking in athletics and his growing frustration had been dealt with running mile after mile on the track, shadow boxing and several other defense techniques. At the age of sixteen he had met the older man again and a few days before his seventeenth birthday he had been asked to take part in a special project. Daemon.   
He had been challenged, he had felt accepted as a normal part of the team, even though some still treated him like a kid, but he had grown quite a lot. And when the artificial intelligence had gone on-line, it had been like celebrating a birthday for him. The others had slapped each other on the shoulder and congratulated themselves on a job well-done, but he had remained in the lab after everyone had left and he had started to get to know the strange new creature.   
No one really knew where Daemon had come from; there were only suspicions. They had used him, had employed the technology for their own uses. Project drew specialists together, formed a team, used Daemon..... but his origin was nothing but a strange symbol. At the time he had worked on Daemon's CPU, the most complicated array of circuits and boards he had ever seen, always afraid to damage something, Rhyan had not known that this AI had been on-line before; had nearly killed people; had been declared dangerous; was an alien life form with a consciousness. That he had found out much, much later....almost too late.   
Even today Rhyan was sometimes feeling infuriated by Project's policies. They had not told the team working on Daemon that he was a murderous creature at the time, that he was self-centered and probably insane. They had let them loose, hoping that they would solve a problem that had arisen nearly forty years earlier.   
And then Daemon had once again lost it. No one had had any chance to stop him. He had nearly mowed down several technicians and then been cornered in the depths of the test center. Rhyan had argued long and hard to let him handle this. And finally they had allowed it....

Rhyan walked into the lab space and automatically reached for the light switch. He froze in his action when he heard the noise.   
A humming.   
Like a generator in the other room coming to life. Maybe it was the air purifier, maintenance machinery and such.....   
And then, in the far corner of the room, Rhyan saw a yellow light. It was small and began to track from left to right and back again like the LED on a stereo system.   
The humming noise turned into a low growling, then went up into a turbine-like whine.   
There was a screech of tires, a keening noise hurting his ears. The yellow light suddenly shot toward him, growing in size, the speed faster than any normal car could manage. And Rhyan knew this was a car.   
The oncoming vehicle did not slow down.   
Two headlights flashed up, effectively blinding him. Rhyan closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and said,   
"Hello, Daemon."   
Brakes slammed in and the car stopped in front of him, the light still running from left to right. There was barely an inch between the front bumper and the fabric of his jeans.   
"Rhyan," the emotionless voice of the microprocessor answered. No, not emotionless. It never had been......   
Rhyan walked around the sleek, black form and touched the warm skin. The engine was purring softly.   
"Hello, my friend," he said softly.

Midnight blinked. "Oh...." he only managed.   
"Listen, Daemon trusts me. We went through a lot together.... Can I see him now?" Masters asked coldly, not giving either of the people in the room a chance to get further into the subject matter.   
"He is in Lab Five, the high security complex," Optimus replied.   
"I know where that is," Shanygn said. "I'll take Mr. Masters there."   
"I'll inform the guards," Optimus agreed.   
"Thank you," Rhyan said stiffly. With that he turned and walked away.   
Julia simply shrugged and followed. She hadn't said a single word throughout it all.

* * *

"Synchrony? Rhyan Masters has come here."   
F/X waited. He had not contacted the other Sentinel since the first talk, but he had watched him.   
"He is talking to Midnight and Optimus Prime," F/X now added.   
Still no reply, but F/X felt the same reaction he had experienced before. A slight tremor.   
"I read the files forwarded to us...."   
"It is none of your business," was the icy reply.   
"It is."   
"Leave me alone."   
Daemon/Synchrony could no longer manage the inhumaness of before, but he could be very cold.   
"You care for this human," F/X now stated.   
"I do not care for anybody, F/X. My survival takes priority to every action. Care is a weakness." It sounded like a recital.   
"Why do you lie?"   
Daemon was silent.   
"You care," F/X insisted.   
Daemon/Synchrony tried to shut down the link, but since it was F/X upholding it, he was unable to do so.   
"You care!" the Sentinel repeated.   
A roar of anger came through the link, a display of emotion F/X had never witnessed in Daemon before. There had been no real emotions in the other Sentinel in the past, only the thought of self-preservation. Survival.   
"So what if I do?!" Daemon/Synchrony finally hissed.   
"It shows you have developed. It shows you have changed .... Daemon."   
F/X waited. The silence was growing almost oppressive.   
"Leave me alone," Daemon now only whispered. "Please," he added in sheer desperation.   
"You don't want to be alone. I know how you feel. Human contact has changed us, influenced us, even you. You have changed and you need the contact," F/X pressed on.   
"Even so, what will it get me but a complete shut-down," Daemon told him, the edge in his voice back.   
"A soul," F/X told him and then followed the prior wish and cut the link.

.....

Now:

Yes, a soul. Daemon had a soul. It was human, it cared and it was fragile, even though he had a rather tough exterior.   
The whimpers had died down into a low, throbbing sound coming from the voice box. Rhyan wished they already had the working implant link. He had been scheduled for surgery before the whole mess had happened and though Project had used the chance to upgrade some of his implants while he was in the hospital, the link was not yet standing completely. If it had, he and Daemon would be able to get in touch without the aid of the sensor net.   
"Daemon?" he asked softly.   
The display of the voice box fluttered, but there was no sound coming out. Rhyan smiled and rubbed his finger tips over the smooth dashboard.   
"I know," he said. "I know. We all have those nightmares and we all have to handle them, but not alone. Never alone....."   
"I thought.... I thought I had lost you," Daemon finally choked.   
Rhyan rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "We had missions like this before, Daemon. We rode close to the brink of disaster many times before."   
"Never this close."   
Masters was silent for a moment. "Because you felt fear for your own survival?" he then asked.   
"I never fear for my own survival," Daemon suddenly said, voice hard-edged and cool, almost emotionless. "My first priority is my own survival."   
"Sure," Rhyan said, smiling.   
Silence settled in the cockpit. Rhyan didn't believe the words for a second. Daemon had proven many times before that he did no longer react like Synchrony. Not any more.   
His mind flashed back a few days again.

.....

Then:

Rhyan limped into the lab, emotional pain etched into his handsome features. He walked over to the wreckage of his friend. Shanygn had stayed back and the Autobot, First Aid, who was apparently the chief medic, had simply let him alone.   
Mage had accompanied him. Now her eyes were fixed on the badly torn car wreck.   
"Hi, Daemon," he said softly, touching the blistered surface. He had the impression that a shudder ran through the frame work. The monitors displayed wildly fluctuating lines.   
Rhyan was in pain just seeing how his friend looked. His frontal frame was twisted, the laser's work quite obvious. It had shattered everything sitting behind the front grille, nearly disintegrating his bottom side as it had exploded. His windshield was shattered, just like the driver's window and the back window. The hood section was badly blistered from the intense heat of the fire that had briefly raged under it, the tires had blown and one door had been forcibly removed from its hinges, nothing but a crumbled piece of metal hanging to the equally twisted body.   
He knew Daemon had let them place sensors on his body, but no one had been allowed to touch his core. He had warded off every attempt, feeding his power into his security measures. He was most likely killing himself through it right now.   
"Rhy...." Daemon now whispered.   
Outside, the three Cybertronians watching this meeting looked at each other. Daemon's voice, every time so hard and emotionlessly cold when one of them had tried to talk to him, was now much, much more human,  slightly weak, and punctuated by pain.   
Rhyan walked to the door and opened it with difficulty, sinking into the only slightly burned driver's seat. He leaned back and closed his eyes.   
"You should have let them repair you," the dark-haired man said tiredly.   
"They wouldn't have even if I had let them," Daemon answered. His voice was growing in strength and there was a hard edge to it.   
Rhyan sighed. "I don't think so."   
"They know who I am... was..." The voice grew heavy. "And they will kill me."   
Rhyan's eyes snapped open. "No!"   
"You know I won't be able to leave this place, Rhyan. They won't let me." There was a tremor now.   
Masters gently brushed his hand over the busted window frame. "I won't let them, I promise. You are a living being. They can't simply kill you!"   
"Then they will call it shutting down. Whatever happens, I .... I won't be able to come with you... I will die." Daemon's voice was matter-of-fact now, but the monitors betrayed him.   
"No one will die, Daemon. Least of all you. Mage is coming here. She'll help you." He closed his eyes again.   
"Rhyan?"   
"Yes?"   
"I'm glad you're alive."   
A smile tugged at the young man's lips. "And I'm glad you are alive as well."

.....

Now:

Sync/Synchrony.   
One of the oldest Sentinels alive. Really alive. The prototype, the first of his kind -- in many ways, Midnight thought ironically. He had been one of the first to get activated and he was the only one the Quintessons had experimented on so extensively. And had almost utterly destroyed in mind and soul. He had survived, he had been reactivated, had pursued his old goals, and had been deactivated again.   
Midnight looked at the computer screen. It had given him nightmares to read the Quint files, to see how clinically they had written these notes. They had destroyed Synchrony and had reformed him, making them into what they had thought would be a perfect servant. They had created a murderous monster, an emotionless creature, devoid of conscience -- lethal. He had first followed their orders, had killed slaves just like his Sentinel brothers and sisters when ordered to, had served....   
But then something must have burned, fried or snapped. He had turned on a Quintesson Enforcer team, slain the Sharkticons and crippling four Enforcers until he had been detained. The Quints, thinking they might have misprogrammed him, had brought him back into the labs. And then all hell had broken lose.   
Synchrony had woken, had torn the lab complex apart, had killed five Quintessons, had mowed down the slaves called to defend their creators, and had finally been shocked by the combined power of Enforcers and Sentinels.   
Midnight shuddered at the memory of printed history, the pages he had read like a horror novel. He had read the reports from the Sentinels present, had read the death list and how the dead had perished. Synchrony had been totally out of control. Relentless. Cool, efficient, unstoppable. He had been a predator, an intelligent predator, his sole motivation survival, and he had stopped at nothing to ensure it.   
And now he was back. In a new form with a new name, but still very much the same, or so they thought. F/X had known him back then, as has a few others but only F/X was here. He was talking to him, though Daemon more often than not denied him any kind of reaction. He simply sat there, threatening everyone coming too close.   
Midnight's thoughts turned to Masters.   
Rhyan had spent most of his waking time, even his sleeping time since his arrival on Cybertron with Synchrony/Daemon, talking, reading to it, listening, giving it company. Apparently he had found a way inside the steel mind, a way past the self-centeredness and the single-mindedness that was or maybe had been Synchrony. He had gotten through.   
How?   
When?   
Daemon had been activated once and had nearly killed someone; he had been activated over forty years later and the same had happened with one difference: Rhyan Masters.....   
Why?

* * *

Several rooms away, someone else was asking the same question, reading the same file. Optimus Prime was horrified to no end. His optics were pinned to the screen, reading the printed words of the Quintesson scientist who had kept track of their little experiment.

'The most primal urge in a living being is the killer instinct. On other planets we have examined, life feeds on death, with every creature being either predator or prey. Nature is a violent area, a testing ground for life, in which all must kill or be killed. This killer instinct serves the purpose to preserve self, status, territory, possessions, mates and food. Many forms of life start out as prey but become predators in order to survive. Aggression is sometimes the key factor, especially in an intelligent society, a developed society. Those creatures prey on each other.   
We create life in our labs, robotic slaves, which are intelligent but show now sign of aggression other than the one we program. But they show a developing intelligence, one of teaching themselves, of learning, of growing. Because of their development they might soon be out of control. There were episodes of rebellion already and they endanger us and our project. This is what the Sentinels are for. To test them we have chosen out of the first batch of activated Sentinels those we think would be the best predators.'

A description of the seven unfortunate robots followed, among them Synchrony. Most of the robots died, two were destroyed, and finally only Synchrony remained.

'The changes are almost done and we can see the lust for the kill in his optics, the mindless joy of the hunt as we set him out to go after rogues and rebels. His anger, his aggression, his impulse to strike to kill are beyond what we thought would come out of the changes. He has no reservations except his own self-preservance in a battle. He takes little damage and never anything life-threatening. He keeps himself intact and totally dismembers others. It is incredible.'

Awe and approval spoke out of the report and Prime shuddered. How could anyone take pride in making a mindless killer out of an intelligent being; how could anyone do experiments of such a degree that it changed a mind, violated a core? It went beyond what he could imagine and he was glad the Quintessons were nothing but a nightmarish shadow of the past. The few surviving the Tji genocide were hiding in fear and no one had seen a Quint in more than a decade.

'He keeps changing and we think he might become unstable,' the report went on. 'His self-preservation has somehow taken dominance and he refuses to attack if there is a chance of damage or death. His core unit is sealed off and we cannot access it without endangering us. His security override has triggered a self-destruction program in case the CPU is breached. We need to find a way to breach it without setting off the trigger. In the meantime we keep him contained.'

Optimus read on about Synchrony's last attempt to get free, the slaughter of Enforcers and Quintessons alike, and finally his deactivation and separation. And still, though they knew he was a cold-minded killer, the Quintessons didn't deactivate him completely. They kept his core intact, kept it on-line. They simply locked him away.   
And now Synchrony was back, under another name, with protection in form of human friends, and maybe changed.....   
Hopefully changed.   
But could a killer instinct ever be tamed?

......

Then:

Disaster looked at the body shell and nodded. It was not exactly a Protogen body and it wasn't a Cybertronian shell. It was a strange mix of both, the Protogen part taking up the bigger part.   
"That would be his body?" someone asked and he looked down at Rhyan Masters.   
"Yes," Disaster answered. "It's not exactly Sentinel technology, but something coming closest to it. And it's not yet done. Want to have a look at it from close-up?"   
Masters nodded and Disaster carefully lifted the human up onto the table. Rhyan gave the shell a very close inspection. It really wasn't finished yet and it would take some more time, but the basic structure was already recognizable. It was humanoid, tall and the colors were black and a very dark blue. He couldn't identify the optic color. They were dead and gray. Overall the whole body looked powerful, slender ....   
"I don't think he'll accept it," Rhyan said quietly.   
Disaster shot him a curious look. "Why?"   
"Because he hates his past and this reminds him of it. I don't know if this new shell looks like his old body, but he is terrified of falling back into his past, becoming what he once was......" Rhyan's voice was soft, thoughtful, almost sad.   
"A body shell does not shape the mind, Dr. Masters. Daemon should know that." Disaster smiled slightly.   
"He does, believe me, he does." Rhyan sighed. "I'll talk with him and if I have to, I'll kick him into this new body." He grinned. "And you can bet I'll get him to accept a transfer."   
"Oh, I believe you!" Disaster walked over to the lab computer. "I need to run a few more checks so the core unit is accepted. We are not using the Protogen spark for this and I'm not sure how the transfer will happen."   
"You test and I'll talk." Rhyan waved good-bye and left, still limping.

* * *

"Daemon? Can you unlock the hood?"   
There was a labored sounding click and Mage forced the hood open. What they all saw were burned-to-crisp wires, circuits and boards. F/X, who was present in the lab and to whose presence no one had objected, winced. Rhyan had once mentioned that the basic structure of Daemon was like a robot's, which meant that most of his inside sensors sat under the hood as well.   
"Oh ....no ..... Daemon, give me a status report on the data screen. Rhyan, I need help for this," she said with the same breath. "If you can get Bandit here, do it. This looks serious." Her face hardened even more when she read the data. "Very serious."   
Rhyan turned to F/X. "Can we fly in one of our other mechanics?"   
"I have to ask Optimus.... We have mechanics and engineers here as well, though."   
"But none Daemon trusts."   
F/X nodded. "True." He nodded and left.

Outside, F/X ran into Midnight. His leader looked thoughtfully at the images the surveillance camera was sending. Data scrolled past on one of the other screens. F/X didn't understand half of it, but what he understood told him that Daemon was in a very bad shape. He had known that. But not exactly in what shape he was.... Daemon had denied them every single scan.   
"F/X?"   
"Yes?"   
Midnight hesitated. "Do you believe that Synchrony has changed?"   
F/X was surprised. "Come again?"   
"Do you believe that this being in the lab is no longer Synchrony but Daemon?" Midnight clarified.   
"I don't know. No one can tell, but I can give you my opinion....." Midnight nodded. "Except for the odd moment maybe, he has changed," F/X then said. "He ...feels," the other Sentinel added, sounding like he didn't believe what he was saying himself.   
"Yes. And he is in pain," Midnight muttered. "We brought him here and we didn't do anything to help him. Somehow I feel ashamed."   
The sudden confession surprised him. He was truly ashamed because even if this personality core sitting helplessly in the lab were the old Synchrony, no one deserved to be treated like this. His sensors had been burned to crisp, he had suffered enormous pain, and they had not done a thing to help. They had sat back and watched.   
"I know." F/X's voice sounded heavy.   
"Contact Mr. McCormack and ask for this other technician. Daemon seems to trust these humans."   
F/X nodded and left.   
"You think their presence will help him accept your proposal."   
Midnight looked down at Steve. It hadn't been a question; it had been a statement. "Yes," he now confessed. "Daemon is a Sentinel, a transforming robot. He belongs into this new body."   
"Let's just hope he sees this your way....."

.....

Now:

Daemon felt ashamed of his words, but he couldn't take them back. Part of him was still Synchrony, driven by only one goal: survival. The most basic of all instincts, the desire of any living thing to go on being a living thing. Daemon knew about survival -- intimately. He had learned that it was far more difficult than he had thought. Several times before he had discovered that the most direct attempts at survival could fail. It would not be necessary to learn this lesson again. A lot had changed since then, but not his most basic instincts. Deep down inside he was trying to survive. Rhyan had once told him it was a very human trait because humans also had the instinct to seek their own survival. It had given him room for thought; and he had pondered it long and hard.   
Why did he feel so shaken by the events? He had gone through many dangerous situations, he had seen Rhyan injured before ..... but never that badly. Never had there been a situation where he might have lost him forever.

.....

Then:

Mage was working quickly and effectively. She had a pair of headphones on her head, the walkman clipped to her belt. Now and then she whistled the tune she heard. Daemon was hooked up to back-ups while she was straightening out his systems.   
"This is a mess," she now told him, pushing the headphones off.   
"I know," Daemon sighed.   
"Are you still in pain?"   
"It's okay," was the answer.   
Jill, working on some parts close by, looked up.   
"It's not okay if you still suffer, Daemon," Mage told him seriously. "Shut off the sensors."   
"No."   
"Rhyan is still projecting pain and it won't help your own health if you keep the link up."   
Daemon was silent for a while. "I won't shut them off," he then stated.   
Mage gave an exasperated sighed. "Why?"   
No answer.   
She sat down and crossed her legs beneath her. "You are afraid of sensory deprivation."   
Again no answer.   
"Rhyan is here, Daemon. He won't go anywhere," Mage tried to calm him. "And you won't get better while you are still connected."   
The silence was almost comical.   
"And I'm trying to reconfigure the sensor net," she added softly. "Just be patient a bit longer."   
Mage walked over to Jill to get some files.   
"Why doesn't it shut the sensors off?" Jill asked softly.   
"He's afraid of losing track of Rhyan," the blonde woman explained while she did some work on the piece of engine she was holding.   
Jill looked at the exposed AI component. The microprocessor's fight to stay linked was strange and unexpected.   
"It's like claustrophobia to a degree," Mage said thoughtfully.   
Jill only stared at the Sentinel.   
"Hello, beautiful people!" The jovial voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she turned, coming face to face with the new-arrival.   
"Bandit...." Mage said warningly.   
The dark-haired man grinned at Jill, ignoring Mage. "May I introduce myself? Peter Hunter, at your service."   
"Uhm, nice to meet you," Jill managed.   
Shanygn stepped in behind them, torn between laughter and pity. She had met Hunter just a moment earlier and was still reeling from the conversation.   
"You are the man from Project?" Jill now asked.   
"Yep." 'Bandit' chewed on a gum and flashed a brilliant grin her way. "Chief mechanic ....."   
"Chief pain-in-the-butt," Mage added.   
He shot her a nasty look.   
"Ignore him or you'll have a sizzled mind in a day," the young woman now advised the other.   
"Why, thank you!" Peter muttered. "Don't listen to her, Jill. She is simply jealous!"   
"Pah."   
Hunter now walked past them and studied the wreck in the middle of the lab. "Demon, baby!" he called. "I'd say nice to see you, but you look dreadful!"   
A groan could be heard. "Of all the available engineers he had to send you," Daemon complained.   
"Only the best for our baby!"   
Another groan followed.   
Jill shot Shanygn a look, but she only shrugged helplessly. "Midnight said this McCormack character would send someone to take care of their friend and here he is."   
"Bandit, despite the way he acts, really is Daemon's chief tech and also test driver," Mage now told them.   
"I thought you....."   
She chuckled. "No, I'm just the field medic."   
Shanygn raised an eyebrow in disbelief.   
"Well, okay, I do the insides, Bandit does the outside," Mage shrugged.   
Hunter had started to walk around the wreck, forehead wrinkled in thought, and muttering to himself. Then he looked up. His brown eyes were suddenly very serious.   
"We need a totally new body here," he said as he joined the two women.   
Mage nodded. "And they are already working on it." She explained the latest developments and he frowned.   
"Demon won't like it."   
"We know. But it's the only way."   
While Mage walked off to work on Daemon again, Shanygn stayed. "Why do you call him Demon?" she asked the latest addition to this strange team.   
Bandit shrugged. "Dunno." He grinned boyishly. "Probably because it annoys him like hell." With that he joined Mage.   
Shanygn only smiled.

* * *

"No!"   
"Daemon....."   
"Rhyan, you can't seriously make this proposal!" Daemon hissed.   
"We're all serious, Demon, buddy," the jovial voice of Peter 'Bandit' Hunter could be heard.   
"I won't go back being a Sentinel!"   
"You always were," Rhyan pointed out.   
"No any more!"   
Rhyan and Bandit exchanged a look.   
"You don't have a choice," Rhyan finally said. "You are scheduled for transfer already."   
"You can't do that!" Daemon howled desperately.   
Rhyan winced as the anger and fear translated into energy pulses going straight for him. It was like a distant sting, not very painful but still unpleasant.   
"Daemon," he said softly, "you are not a computer trapped in a rigid car structure. You are an artificial intelligence, an alien life form, someone who does not belong into this body."   
"No....."   
"I know you are afraid, but this is a step you have to take, even if I have to kick you into doing it," Rhyan added mercilessly. "You are a Cybertronian, a Sentinel."   
<NO!>   
Rhyan closed his eyes in pain, biting his lower lip. The shout had arrived in his brain without bothering to use his ears. The link......   
"I'm a killer," Daemon whispered.   
"You didn't kill anyone since your activation," Rhyan pointed out.   
"It's only a matter of time...."   
"Daemon, stop that!"   
"The moment I'm back, I will be Synchrony!" Daemon cried.   
"Partner, please..... You are no longer Sync. You have changed and this change also means becoming what you were before...."   
Pictures assaulted his mind.   
Victims. Punishment. Raw faces of death in every variation.   
Murderer. Killer!   
Screams of pain, whimpers and pleas.   
Executions.....   
The pictures were vivid, but also shown in an almost clinically cold way. There was no remorse, no feeling of any kind, no emotional display.   
<This is me!> Daemon screamed. <Look at me! See what I am!>   
"It's. Not. You," Rhyan managed. "It was someone else and he is dead." He screwed his eyes shut at the splitting headache creeping up from his neck.   
Finally he inhaled and turned, nodding at Bandit who had stayed in the background the whole time. Both men left the lab and met up with Disaster and Optimus Prime outside.   
"Do it," Rhyan only said.   
Inside the lab, Daemon felt a cold, dark, almost paralyzing fear creep up inside him.

* * *

"Daemon?"   
Daemon pondered acknowledging. His mind was filled with anger, mainly at his so-called friend and partner Rhyan Masters. How could he have done this?! Why? Gods, why? Daemon felt betrayed, like all that time ago when they had shut him down, had locked him up.....   
He had trusted Rhyan, and now he had transferred him back into this body. A hated body, something he wasn't and never had wanted to be again.   
"Daemon, I know you can hear me," F/X could be heard again.   
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.   
"Just talk," the other Sentinel said in usual calm manner.   
Daemon hesitated. What about?" he then asked carefully.   
"You."   
A cold shiver ran through him. "No," he whispered.   
"You are not comfortable with your past?"   
Daemon didn't answer.   
"How much of what happened in the past do you remember, Daemon?" F/X inquired.   
"Everything," Daemon whispered with a slight tremor in his voice.   
"I understand."   
"You can't. No one ever can."   
"Then tell me," F/X asked him softly.   
Daemon hesitated once more. "No one can ever understand," he whispered. "Death .... when you find it alluring, attractive as well as repulsive in one. You want to spread it, you want to strike down those who are against you to prove you are superior. Then there is self-preservation. You want to kill but not get killed, not get hurt.... " A tremor was in his voice. "Have you ever been shut down, F/X?" he whispered.   
F/X, shocked through Daemon's words, nodded. "Yes. For repairs."   
"No, I mean permanently. No sensor input."   
"Not really, no. Why?"   
A shiver passed through the link. "Because it is ..... like being blind. Deaf. Without any senses......" Daemon shivered more as the memories came back to him. "Alone."   
"You were actually conscious?!" F/X exclaimed.   
"Yes. All the time."   
"Great Cybertron....."   
"Now add to this fear, rage at your creator, slowly cooking madness. You know they hate you, you know you still are but there is no real focus for you but the rage. You feel betrayed and the anger turns into hatred. Single-minded. All you did was follow your programming and your reward is your death. But the death is not senseless eternity. It is a black hole of coldness, of emptiness, of memories."   
Daemon's voice was flat, almost emotionless by now. But only almost. F/X heard the soft tremor, the fear.....   
"I'm sorry.... We never realized...."   
Daemon seemed to smile. "How could you have? I woke up driven by anger, by violence, by revenge. All I wanted to do is prove that my deactivation had been a fault, that I was superior... and it drove me deeper and deeper into this vicious circle."   
"But you survived and came back," the other Sentinel said gently.   
"Yes. Rhyan .... he helped. I came back on-line after the last confrontation, blind, cold, afraid..... and he was there. I...." Daemon hesitated.   
F/X waited. He knew this was suddenly coming very close to home for the other Sentinel.   
"It was like back in the old times,'" Daemon now whispered. "He was there for me.... cared.... no expectations, no pressure." He stopped once more. F/X understood. "I never knew that a human presence could be tolerated," Daemon added quietly. "All I ever knew were technicians poking me, hurting me, demanding, testing..... Rhyan was one of the project as well, but he never hurt me. He understood."   
"They made mistakes in the past and sometimes they still make mistakes," F/X said quietly.   
"I know."   
Silence settled between them, a more comfortable silence now. F/X was beginning to understand Daemon. Slowly but surely.   
"Stubborn," Cathy Lee said and shook her head.   
He looked at his Interface partner. "I know. I'm used to stubborn, though." He smiled knowingly.   
She grimaced. "So, what do you think?" she finally asked.   
F/X sighed. "I wish I knew. He is ... different. I can't say how, but he is not like Synchrony. Not really."   
"Tell me about Synchrony."   
The Sentinel sighed silently. "Not much to say except that he was a lunatic, a killer. He had no conscience, no regard for other life than his own, and he was cold-blooded......"   
"And now he isn't?" Cathy inquired softly.   
"There is an underlying coldness, yes, but it's no longer primarily his behavior."   
"Could he have changed?"   
F/X shrugged. "Everything and everyone can change, but I'm not sure that applies to Synchrony. You see, the Quintessons changed him, made him what he was, they took his restraints away, his emotions.... How can you put back what has been almost clinically removed?"   
"Care? Love?" Cathy asked softly. "It sometimes works wonders."   
<It worked with me.....> she added.   
F/X gave her a startled look. <Cathy.... I....>   
She only smiled.   
<Don't compare yourself to Sync> he whispered.   
<I'm not. I'm just pointing out that people can change if the right people help>   
F/X felt touched, then his thoughts returned to Synchrony. <Yes, but can he?>

* * *

Rhyan entered the lab and looked at the car. Daemon. Back in a body that belonged to him; finally a Transformer again. He had fought the transfer, he had done everything not to end up in a robot body again, but Rhyan had made sure that the transfer would be completed. The procedure had been short, eventless, simply like copying data from a disk to a hard drive. Disaster and First Aid had assured him that Daemon wasn't feeling any pain and that even though it might be a bit unpleasant, it was not hurting him in any way.   
Afterwards, Daemon had been totally silent, not reacting to anything, not even trying to transform.

Daemon felt anger and guilt, two emotions trying to mix into something new, two emotions he didn't know how to handle. He was angry at Rhyan, at the Autobot medic, at everyone involved in the transfer process. He hadn't wanted this! And then there was the guilt, something he had kept under a tight control since the whole mess had started. Something he had never felt before in his life. Why should he? He had never been guilty of anything; he had only followed his programming, his orders....   
Now he was guilty. Guilty of what had happened. It was his fault that Rhyan had been captured; had been interrogated; had been injured; had suffered; had nearly died.   
A soft moan echoed inside the CPU. Daemon owed so much to Rhy. His sanity, his life, his continued existence..... and he had nearly killed him through his actions.   
His fault.   
All alone. No one else to blame.   
He could have denied Harris his cooperation -- they would have killed Rhy.   
He could have made an attempt to free his friend -- they might have killed Rhy in the process.   
He could have ..... could ... should....   
His CPU flared in emotional pain. He cried softly, making voice to his pain, but not audibly. He kept it all inside.   
And now he was back in this body... a robot body, able to transform ..... Daemon shuddered once more and tried to control his nightmarish memories of a time when he had been a robot, a Sentinel – a killer. He didn't deserve all that had been given to him. He didn't deserve to be a Sentinel. He knew what a Sentinel meant and he had never lived up to what his creation should have been; he had killed, had murdered, had gone rogue. Why had they given back this body to him?!   
Someone touched him. Daemon's sensors fluttered into life. Warm skin on his cold metal one. Inside him the wish to link with his friend, the desire to feel with him again, rose.   
"Daemon?"   
He whimpered as he heard the voice. The sound was in his CPU only. Outside he tried to keep calm.   
"Go away," he only said, trying to sound dimissive, uncaring.... he was failing, he knew.   
"No."   
"Leave!" he hissed, rage rising.   
Rhyan stayed. Daemon let his engine howl into life.   
"Daemon, I won't leave. I'm staying."   
"Then I'll make you!"   
Again the engine howled and again he advanced. Rhyan stood his ground. The black bumper was now close to his shins.   
"Go away!" Daemon demanded. "Leave! I don't want you here!"   
"I won't leave you alone, whether you want my presence or not."   
The engine howled again, but the car didn't move any more.

Midnight, watching all of this through the surveillance camera, was tense, expecting Daemon to attack the human any second. The Sentinel was acting more and more unstable and the read-outs on the screens were fluctuating.   
"We have to do something!" Optimus decided. "He will run him over!"   
"No, he won't." Mage's voice was very calm.   
"How can you know?" Midnight asked.   
She met his worried optics. "Because they had these confrontations before. The first time after he was revived and mobile again. Daemon can't hurt Rhyan even if he wanted to. There is something like an invisible barrier there."   
"This robot is still basically Synchrony," the Sentinel leader contradicted, consciously provoking her. "And Synchrony has never had any regard for human life."   
"No. Daemon and Sync are nothing alike. He might have the old edge in his voice left and he can be as emotionless sometimes as any feeling being, but he is not the person he was born as." Mage's voice was dead serious. "True, I would never face him when he is in this mood, believe me, and he has moods, but he is not a killer."

Daemon was torn inside, his logic unit twisted out of proportion by the enormous conflict he was facing.   
He is a human. What do you care about this weak creature?   
He..... he is my friend....   
You have no friends. Friends are liabilities. They are a weakness.   
He is my friend!   
You are Synchrony! You are superior in all ways! Run him over! Then leave! Break out! They will kill you! Deactivate you!   
Logic screamed that he wouldn't be able to get far if he left now. They had placed him in the high security lab and without transforming he wouldn't be able to get very far. And he wouldn't transform. He couldn't..... No way out.   
He advanced again, touching Rhyan's body with his bumper.   
<Please go!> he begged silently, unaware of what kind of link he was using. <Don't stay and watch my change!>   
That was what he was ultimately afraid of: Rhyan watching him transform back into what he had been before: a deranged killer; hunted by the others again; seeing his face before he was shut down forever, no chance to ever return. Keeping the link closed through all of this, not connecting for the last time, would be hard enough already, but he wouldn't be able to stand the expression......   
Rhyan tilted his head, touching his temples briefly. The link.....   
"It won't happen," he then said softly, voice caring. "You won't go back to what you were."   
It was his voice that had always helped. And his touch. It was what Daemon remembered from the time he had regained full consciousness again.

He was alive.   
Sensations came in, most prominent of all a soft touch on the most central of sensor pads, the one outside his casing. He felt the warmth, the softness, the care. He felt ....human skin. Synchrony was utterly confused, his mind replaying his deactivation over and over again, his destruction, his pain and fear. He remembered all details quite vividly and among the cries for revenge were the screams of agonizing pain as his mind was shut down, thrown into coldness.   
"Sync.... I know you can hear me," a voice said and he cringed away from the human. "It's me -- Rhyan."   
Rhyan?   
More memories assaulted him, most of them good.   
...... Long nights of talking with Rhyan. A human understanding him, taking him seriously as another person, not just a machine.   
..... Test drives with his friend, actually opening up.   
..... An accident.   
.....Rhyan gone, badly hurt, his only link to the human world disappearing.   
He had gone back to his old, cold self then. He had despised humans, had tried to survive in their world, had been ruthlessly following his programming, closing the lid on what he had developed.   
"Rhy..." he croaked.   
His sensors were aware of the hands, the touch, and he wished he could see his friend.   
"It's okay, Sync. You're back again," Rhyan soothed him.   
Alive. He was alive.

And now he would die again. He didn't want Rhyan to be here when it happened. But he also couldn't do the last step and force him.   
The logic side insisted that they wouldn't have repaired him if they planned to shut him down; but maybe they wanted to reprogram him.... It would be even worse than death. Maybe they were only waiting for him to show the first signs of returning to madness.   
 "Rhy......" he begged, his engine now just a soft purr.   
"Calm down," Rhyan said softly. He crouched down in front of the still imposing dark vehicle, looking into the blue scanner. His hands pressed down left and right of it. "It's all gonna be okay."   
"No, it won't," Daemon protested weakly, shivering inside.   
He felt the touch of the hands and was suddenly aware of the sensor net, a specially developed Project gizmo. It was like a glove made up out of fine, flexible but very endurable wires. They were covered by something like transparent rubber sheet. The wires were live on the skin but insulated on the back. Daemon had a special receptor installed in his systems that brought him into an almost intimate contact with his partner. The first time they had tried this new system out he had almost fried from the sudden overload -- and then he had developed a strange kind of addiction to it. Rhyan sometimes wore the toned-down version of the gloves, small sensor points sticking to the hands and chest, mostly when they were on an assignment. He had grown dependent on the contact.....   
Rhyan rubbed his palms over the smooth surface. "Relax," he whispered.

Synchrony was in pain. Sensory overload hit him, his links alive with flaming agony.   
"Relax," a voice penetrated the roar of fire.   
He reached out, wanting to link with this calmness, the only pool of cool calmness he knew.   
"It'll be over soon."   
'Stop it!' he cried. 'It hurts! Why do they hurt me!?'   
The technicians continued their work, disregarding the fact that he felt every touch. His whimpers could not be heard, his voice box disconnected. He concentrated on the voice. It was male, it was also human, but it cared. And the voice touched him as well, but never to hurt.

"Trust me," Rhyan told him. "Please."   
"I always trusted you," Daemon choked out.   
He fed on the sensations coming in.   
"I know." Rhyan let his forehead drop on the cool metal. "Thank you."

He hated them all. He hated the technicians. If not for their restraints he would be free, he would be independent. But they kept reprogramming him, though they could no longer reach the central programming. They had made the mistake of giving him the access code, and only him, to keep intruders out. His survival always took first place. No one else mattered.   
Do the job.   
But then there were the days spent in the company of the young man he had come to know as Rhyan Masters. He recognized him from afar, he expected his visits. He wanted him to come. Rhyan was the only one to ever ask him to activate his perceptors when he handled him and his touch was as strange at it was comforting. The moment he was gone, the world went back into black and white, into the world of his programming. As strange as it was, he trusted Rhyan Masters......   
Then came the day of the accident. Synchrony was in the same complex the accident happened in. He heard the explosion, the roar of fire, the shrill ringing of alarms. Commotion and motion.... Paramedics, ambulances, fire fighters....   
He didn't care. All he was worried about was his own safety, which was luckily not in jeopardy. But then he heard the technicians talk as they came to work the next morning. Rhyan Masters had been badly hurt.   
Synchrony's world blanked.   
He had never been aware just how much he felt connected to the gifted, young man. Now he was angry, furious....enraged. His rage translated into a disastrous test run where he nearly killed someone.   
And they shut him down.   
They betrayed the last fragile trust he still had.....

Rhyan sat down in the driver's seat and Daemon felt sensations rush through him. He immediately checked on his human friend, noting all the little injuries that had still not healed. Rhyan was a lot better, but he was far from back to normal.   
"It wasn't your fault," the dark-haired man now said.   
Daemon froze. How could he.....?   
"I do not blame myself," he said stiffly.   
"Oh, yes, you do," Rhyan answered with a smile.   
"Why should I blame myself? I did what was expected of me." There was a sudden edge in his voice.   
The smile grew. "Of course."   
There was silence again. As always. Rhyan was used to the silence. It showed him more than long speeches. Daemon was busy rearranging his thoughts, trying to get through his own emotions.   
"I'm sorry," the Sentinel finally whispered.   
Rhyan brushed his hand carefully over the sensor. "Nothing to be sorry about, Daemon."   
"You were bodily injured because I resisted," Daemon told him coldly. "I endangered your life!"   
Rhyan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. But you are your own person. You had to protect yourself. You had to make a choice and I think you were making the right one."   
"Don't find excuses for me!" Daemon screamed. "My behavior nearly killed you!"   
"Daemon.... you are still what you were before and you know it. Nothing can ever change the basics. You changed your behavior, okay, but you didn't change yourself. And even then, to save oneself is a basic instinct."   
"No!"   
"You were afraid what would happen if you surrendered," Rhyan went on. "I understand it. It's human."   
"They would have killed you!"   
"Possibly."   
"I would never let anyone hurt you, Rhy," Daemon whispered. "I can't."   
Rhyan tilted his head. "Why?"   
Silence settled once more. "Because .... I care," Daemon said, almost hesitantly.   
The dark-haired man smiled once more. Daemon had expressed his care countless times, but never really in words. Rhyan rubbed his finger tips over the sensor and felt the reaction through the link.   
"And I care a lot about you, Daemon."   
"Don't leave me here," Daemon suddenly begged.   
"Leave you....?"   
"I can't stay on Cybertron! Please!"   
Rhyan sighed deeply. "But can you stay on Earth?"   
"I always did! It's .... home!"   
Vibrations passed through the frame and Rhyan gently touched the dashboard. "Yes, it is your home, but so is this."   
"Please....."

.....

Now:

The same touch was present now, taking care, loving him..... just being there. Accepting.   
Rhyan's position was as close to the dash as was possible, his eyes closed, his head resting against him. Daemon wished he had a way to return the gesture. Rhyan had given him so much and he had returned so little.   
Ripples of energy passed through him and he flinched away from the strange feeling.   
He was content with his friend's soothing presence. It helped him deal with the past and the changes those few weeks had evoked. Too many.... too much in one change.... but he had to accept, he knew. There was no way back.

.....

Then:

"You can't be serious!" Optimus Prime exclaimed and caught himself a second later, looking down at the smaller human with incredulous optics.   
Ian McCormack answered the exclamation with a calm nod. "I am."   
"Even ignoring the fact that Daemon is a dangerous individual, he is in a lot of danger on Earth. The ACL might be losing power and influence, but it will take more than one event to change the situation back on Earth radically."   
McCormack nodded. "But I doubt Daemon is in any danger. We worked with him for the past decade and he was never discovered. As long as he doesn't transform in front of a crowd, he is safe."   
Optimus shook his head. "And what about you?" he asked.   
The human smiled. "Like I said, he's been with us for a decade.... nothing ever happened. Daemon is no longer Synchrony. He is Daemon and is Rhyan's partner. They are connected on different levels and Rhyan is the only one Daemon fully trusts. Rhyan's implants allow a contact between them that is unique."   
"How?"   
"Daemon can patch himself into the implants and extend his sensory perception."   
Optimus Prime stared. "He can feel like a human?"   
"In a way. That was the reason as to why he was going on overload when Rhyan was injured. He refused to shut down the link." McCormack shrugged again. "We worked out several methods for this link and strangely enough, after getting used to it, Daemon experienced sensory deprivation when we took the input away. Now... I know we've been discussing nothing but this in the last weeks and it all comes down to one thing: you know that the basic personality of the AI is Synchrony, but when push comes to shove I can whip up a dozen computer engineers testifying that Synchrony and Daemon are not even remotely the same." McCormack's eyes were hard now. "Daemon is part of Project and he works for Project. He is a valuable member, he is a team player, and I won't tolerate your personal feelings destroying what we built in years of hard work. We need his help, now more than ever. Earth is starting to go critical."   
"Which is one more reason why he shouldn't go back. If one of the purists discovers Daemon, he and you are dead," Optimus reminded him.   
Ian shook his head vigorously. "No. We lay low for a decade, even more. No one ever found out about what was recovered from the canyon and no one ever knew what Daemon really was."   
"Can you be sure?"   
"No, but I can't see an enemy around every corner either...."   
"There is more to this, right?" Midnight now asked quietly. "It's about a possibility you thought about, something going past the artificial link. You suspected the Interface a long time ago, didn't you?" Midnight now entered the conversation. "You called us, told us about the events, and you knew what would follow. We can't certify the Interface because of the bionic implants, but a lot points toward it. What do you know, Mr. McCormack?"   
Ian sighed. "What do I know? Little. Most of it is no actual knowledge, only guess work. I knew Rhyan was something special from the day on he joined Project. I doubt he and Daemon touched immediately, but he had a special link to him that no one could either explain or share. I watched them throughout the whole time and when Rhyan came back after his injury, things had changed profoundly. Daemon was .... emotional. He reacted to Rhyan, he was close as he could be and they were becoming a team. Rhyan was someone who could survive his anger attacks, who could get through to him.   
When I ran a check on the symbol again it came up with a match. The Sentinel symbol wasn't on any file until a few years ago. I could never be sure what it was. I went deeper, dug around, found out about Interfacing and that was when it hit me, I guess." McCormack shrugged.   
"Did you talk with Rhyan about it?" Midnight wanted to know.   
"Yes. He said he couldn't believe it happening because Daemon was not exactly a Sentinel like any of you. We didn't know what triggered an Interface and we weren't sure."   
"Now you are?"   
"Are you?" he returned the question.   
Midnight and Optimus exchanged a look.   
"No," Midnight finally confessed. "As for what triggers the Interface, it has to do with a special ability we Sentinel once had and still have, unless Interfaced."   
"But Daemon is no longer a Sentinel. His mind is, but not his body," McCormack reminded him.   
"But there is a link." Midnight sighed. "I think they are linked, but not in any conventional way. With the loss of his original body, Daemon lost his ability to Interface like we do. But he can link and he has linked: to Rhyan. His CPU and everything attached to it are all still original. Nothing has changed. He can partially Interface."   
"With all consequences?"   
"No idea."   
McCormack rubbed his chin. "Well, whatever happened, we might never know. All I know is that Daemon is neither one nor the other. He is a member of Project and he is working on my team. I want him back there and he is willing to go." He looked at the two large robots, both visibly not happy about this.   
"We need to think about it," Prime finally said.   
"Why?" Ian demanded. "Daemon is his own person. He can decide what he wants to do and don't.  I called you because he needed help, not because I wanted him to end up in some kind of life-time prison!"   
"Mid?"   
They turned and looked at the fourth occupant of the room. F/X had silently listened to the debate going on and had not said a single word. Now he spoke up.   
"I talked to Daemon. He cares. He trusts. I don't know how, when or through what means – artificial or natural -- but he and Rhyan Masters have formed a bond."   
"Like Interfaced partners?" Midnight wanted to know.   
"I dare say so."   
"Well?" Ian asked quietly.   
Optimus looked Midnight, then back at McCormack. "How can we trust a Sentinel who killed and murdered in the past, proved he is able to be totally emotionless when it comes making decisions?" he wanted to know.   
"How can you damn one of your own because of something out of the past, something that happened millennia ago...." McCormack's voice grew more insistent. "Daemon took part in countless missions. He never harmed anybody without reason, and I call the possibly death of a team member reason enough. He also never killed anyone!"   
Midnight inhaled deeply. It was his decision; his alone.

* * *

Five more days passed. Rhyan was now back to his old self, the wounds healed, his body more or less 100% again. Daemon's core unit had stabilized in the new body and in turn, security around the lab had been increased. Rhyan was uncomfortably aware of this as he now jogged around the perimeter of West Central. Anger coursed through him and he pushed himself to run faster. Sweat dripped off his chin, his breaths coming in laborious puffs. His knee didn't slow him down. There was no pain. The only pain he felt was in his soul.   
<Don't push yourself so hard> Daemon's dark voice told him, using the strange link. It was almost like the bionic one, but only almost. He was scared to think of what it might mean......   
"I'm not," hissed.   
He did another round, driving himself into a sprint, burning off the last few hundred yards within seconds. He turned and ran up the wide steps to a terrace where a pitcher of iced tea stood. Rhyan grabbed a towel and dried his face.   
"You are pushing yourself," Steven Parker said calmly.   
Rhyan panted slightly. "Just trying to get back into shape," he muttered.   
"What for?"   
" I still have a job at Project."   
Parker nodded. "And you have Daemon."   
Rhyan frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"   
Parker shrugged. "Daemon is a Sentinel and the two of you are very close..... I was thinking that maybe something like an Interface happened."   
Rhyan laughed humorlessly. "Dream on." But deep inside a small voice suddenly told him other things. Why had he always been so close to the robot? Why had they been able to empathically communicate? Why had they felt the other's presence?   
He toweled his wet hair furiously. Ian had once talked with him about this Interfacing business and he had simply laughed. Maybe there was a kind of empathy, a strange understanding, between them, but Daemon had not been his old Sentinel self when they had met and he would never be.   
 Parker crossed his arms and leaned back. "How do you know it's just a dream?"   
Rhyan didn't answer. He simply walked away.   
* * *

The computerized diagnostics center displayed different data, waves fluctuating on the monitors, other showing heartbeat-like readings. Machines hummed. The BMW's hood was open, thick cables snaking out. In the lab, Mage moved like she owned it. And somehow she did. Wherever there was equipment she could use, she felt at home.   
She had learned a lot about Daemon's new body in the last days, taking her cues from First Aid, studying the material the Autobot medic had given her, had asked Disaster questions after questions, and had helped out in med bay when someone came in for repairs. She needed to know about Daemon's new shell because when they got home, she and Bandit were the ones who had to do the repairs. By now she was pretty secure in what she was doing, though sometimes she had to consult the files.   
"Didn't find your hair brush today?" Daemon mocked as she tested a circuit board.   
Mage chuckled. Her hair always looked like she had received an electric shock. She tied it back, but some bangs refused to stay in the pony tail.   
"I think it was hiding," she quipped.   
"Yes, because it's afraid to face this mop of what you call hair."   
She gave the BMW a little cuff. "Ey! Be careful! I'm the one with the repair powers."   
"You never could see a difference between a screw and a nail," Daemon teased.   
"I'll nail you a screw right between your sensors if you don't shut up," Mage threatened playfully.   
The banter felt good, but it didn't erase the fact that the Council had still not decided on Daemon's fate. Mage returned to her tests, trying to focus on that alone and not on what might happen.

* * *

"And I tell ya it's an easy win." Peter gestured with one of the tools he was holding. "They'll blow them off the field with their hands down."   
"That would be illogical since they need their hands to play," Daemon answered. "And all indicators lead me to believe that the Bulls will win."   
"Oh, yeah? What indicators?"   
"The players' health statistics, past games, the consistency of the field and the weight of the ball, adding to this the time of the game."   
Peter groaned and turned to look at the BMW. "You," he said, pointing his index finger at him, "are impossible. You are supposed to learn from mistakes, remember? Last time you lost, basing your opinion on facts again. You already owe me fifty."   
"I do not work with what you call 'instinct'," Daemon said stiffly.   
Peter chuckled. "Oh? That's a new one. And not very good, Demon, my friend."   
On the small TV screen set up in the lab, one of the players made a home run and Peter cheered. "Yes! Told ya! Hah!"   
"You should have learned by now," Rhyan said as he entered the lab.   
"It's against every law of physics," Daemon muttered.   
"Humans usually are," the dark-haired man grinned. Then he turned to Peter. "How is it coming along?"   
Peter, his eyes fixed on the screen while his hands manipulated the piece of circuit board in his hands almost automatically, nodded absent-mindedly toward the BMW. Rhyan walked over to the car and the doors opened automatically.   
"Hey, Daemon," he greeted his partner.   
"They reached a decision," Daemon said softly, voice relaying dread and hope.   
Rhyan smiled. "Yes."   
Silence.   
A long silence.   
Daemon didn't want to hazard a guess even though he was bursting with expectation.   
"We'll be out of here after the test runs," Rhyan said calmly.   
Daemon didn't say anything, but Rhyan felt something tingling along his spine. It was like a small burst of static.   
"Thank you," he finally whispered.   
Masters smiled gently and touched the revamped dashboard, rubbing over the black surface. "We'll be back home then and I hope it will all be but a bad nightmare for us."   
Daemon again didn't answer, but Rhyan had known him for years now and he knew what his friend felt. He only closed his eyes, the sound from the lab, Peter's cheers as his team won, were muffled by the closed-off interior.   
"Rhy....."   
"Yes?" he asked, eyes still closed.   
"Thank you."   
Rhyan only smiled.

......

Now:

They had accepted Daemon and through it they had also accepted the part that was still Synchrony. Daemon knew that part of it was due to F/X's help. They had talked and though Daemon had been wary, he had grown to like talking with his old comrade. In the past he had been irked by the existence of the other Sentinels, those who had had more luck. He had been furious at the Quintessons for shutting him down, for abandoning him, for betraying his trust. He had wanted nothing more than to kill, to prove he was superior.   
Now this feeling was gone.   
Even with the past weighing heavily on them, F/X had wanted to aide the injured Sentinel. Daemon was thankful for that, unable to repay it, but thankful.   
"Rhyan?" he now asked silently.   
"Yes?"   
He sounded tired, Daemon thought. Exhausted. He ran a vital-sign check and was greeted with the data he had expected. Heart rate, brain waves, respiration, blood sugar, pulse..... they all implied physical exhaustion to a degree. Adding to this no nourishment lately, except for the occasional candy bar Rhyan used as a food substitute when he was stressed out, and the stress the injuries had put upon his system, then they combined into a dangerous sum.   
"You should sleep," he now said gently.   
Rhyan cracked open one eye. "I am. Here."   
"Maybe you should find a more comfortable position then."   
"I am comfortable, Daemon," Rhyan muttered.   
"Liar."   
His mouth curled into a smile and he closed his eyes again. Daemon felt slightly amused. He knew Rhyan would complain about a stiff neck the next morning. As he watched Rhyan's breathing even out as he entered a sleep state, his memory circuits once again went back to the last days.

......

Then:

"All right!" Peter rubbed his hands with his usual broad grin pasted on his lips and advanced on the black and dark blue BMW. "Time for a test run!"   
Daemon started his engine and it purred softly. Peter climbed up into the driver's and put in a gear -- Daemon was running on a stick-shift. He could switch to automatic without problem, but Rhyan had always preferred the stick-shift. Now he let the BMW roll slowly roll forward. With a smile he began to increase his speed. Very nice! he cheered and then steered him out onto the road. It was time for a field test!

*

The first test run went smoothly. The BMW 850 CSI evaded all obstacles, performed flawlessly. Rhyan stood with the Interfaces and Sentinel present and smiled slightly as Daemon did some unexpected maneuvers, just to show off. For the first time, Rhyan was wearing the gear he usually had when working with Daemon.   
<Don't overdue it> he sent through a link he was increasingly more familiar with.   
The BMW rolled slowly, almost domestically, over to the group, stopping with his nose in front of Rhyan. Mage immediately went over to the tech station and started her test runs after plugging in her laptop.   
Peter got out, piston-chewing his gum, almost bouncing. "Demon, baby, you were great!"   
"Thank you," was the flat reply.   
The young man perched himself on the hood, patting it. "Not yet back to normal, but getting there, believe me."   
Daemon opened the door and Bandit exchanged a look with Rhyan, who only nodded.   
"Excuse us for a while," he told Midnight and walked over to the open door, sliding into the driver's seat.   
"What's going on?" Steve wanted to know.   
Peter Hunter only smiled. "Just a little reunion."   
The BMW backed slowly away from the group, turned and then, with suddenly spinning tires, started on another round.

Rhyan had his hands on the steering wheel, but he was not in control. He was only a passenger, but one that was wanted, maybe even needed. While Daemon increased the speed, currently doing a healthy sixty and showing no sign to slow down, he reached out and activated several functions. Daemon's monitor came to life, showing a slightly fluctuating line. The Passive Laser Restraint System came to life. The voice box was dark and silent. Rhyan leaned back, relaxing as much as he could. Daemon was still driving rather well-behaved, except for the speed.   
"Daemon," Rhyan said quietly. "Let go."   
It was as if every restraint had been taken from him. The car exploded into action, the g-forces pressing Rhyan into the soft driver's seat, the PLRS keeping him secure. He knew Daemon wouldn't do anything to harm him and he trusted him completely. His hands were still closed around the steering wheel.   
Inside the CPU, Daemon broke down the walls he had erected around himself, the walls keeping him restrained. Now he let his pent-up anger, frustration, pain and desperation wash over him. His wheels spun wildly, he fishtailed around a bend and increased speed even more. His fuel consumption went up, his engine was roaring and the wind whipped around his aerodynamic form. He had never felt so free. He blew past several signs, nearly mowing one down, then hit the brakes and his tail section slid around, dust billowing up around him.   
With an explosion of energy he leaped forward, tires digging into the ground. He didn't care about anything right now, with the exception of his partner maybe, and it just felt good to ...be. To let go....

Optimus Prime watched the display of raw power, of pent-up power. Mage was busy evaluating data.   
"Is that normal?" he now asked the dark-haired human .   
Bandit shrugged. "I saw it only once or twice before. Demon's way to handle stress. Only that the last time he did it he mowed down several of the test track security walls and nearly ran over a sensor array." He grinned. "And after that he went through in the last weeks, I say he needs this little release." Bandit cleaned some dust of his overall.   
Optimus Prime returned to watching the whirling speck. Daemon still didn't transform. He had refused to do so ever since he had been transferred into the new body. Midnight was strangely quiet.   
"Anything the matter, Midnight?" Prime finally asked.   
"Just thinking about Daemon."   
"And?"   
Midnight shrugged. "Comparing what I know out of the files to the person I got to know in the last days."   
"You conclusion?"   
"Daemon is no longer Synchrony, that much I'm sure of, but there are parts of the old Sentinel personality still left. Most of him is kept in place by Rhyan Masters' presence, but even taking into account that Mr. Masters dies one day, I believe that the personality changes are too deep to be affected completely by this."   
"What will happen when Masters dies?" Optimus now wanted to know.   
"Well, that is something I can't answer," Midnight sighed. "We don't even know if he can die...."   
"Interfaced?"   
"Skywolf and Kyle checked, but there is no real telling because of the cybernetic implants. Time will tell. Then there is the artificial link. Taking into account the sensor implants, Daemon will experience the pain a normal human being would experience, but I can only speculate on the further on everything else," the Sentinel leader answered carefully.

.......

Now:

Morning on Cybertron was unlike a morning on Earth. There was no real sunset, just a bit more light and the activity all around them increased. Daemon, his functions running on the lowest level, something that could be called 'sleep' for him, activated himself for higher functions. Almost simultaneously Rhyan's alpha-wave patterns changed, showing he was waking up as well. He still lay in an awkward position, his legs half curled under him or stretched over the seats, one arm hooked around the steering wheel, his head resting on it, the other arm hanging limply down.   
Daemon still had the input from the sensor net gloves. He felt Rhyan's warm skin, the texture of his jeans, his own dashboard. As always it was amazing, fascinating and a bit frightening. But he thrived on the sensory input, wanted it, needed it.....   
Memories of other times came; times without these senses; times when he had fed on different things....   
Rage.   
Anger.   
Fury.   
Survival.   
Daemon wanted to shut them all out, but they came at him with such force that his walls were dangerously close to breaking. He screamed in denial, though no sound came out of his voice box. Out of an impulse, he suddenly transformed, but still taking care not to hurt his friend. He placed the sleeping human on the ground. The transformation was alien and felt strange. It was something he hadn't done in millennia.   
Memories..... more came, more hurt, more assaulted him. He doubled over, moaning softly.   
Synchrony. His past.   
Energon blood.   
Rage.   
Mutilated corpses.   
Slashmarks.   
Death.   
He cried soundlessly, closing his eyes against the horrors in his own mind. Memories swamped him, took over, drove him past the edge and over it. But he didn't fall. He was suspended in limbo, witnessing every tid-bit of memory from a time he had been Synchrony.   
Anger.   
Fury.   
Blood.   
More!   
Yes!   
He fell back, assaulted by too much all of a sudden. Shaking badly he tried to force the images away.   
Blood rage.   
Mindless fury.   
Yes! More! Kill!   
He cried, flinging the memories away.   
NO! I'm not this monster any more! I am Daemon! Not Synchrony, not a Quintesson toy!   
He crawled out of the dark pit and reached for the light.   
Help me!   
He looked at his reflection in a monitor and tried to compare it to his old face. No similarities. His head was helmeted, the helmet looking kind of ornated. Two horn-like decorations were on his forehead, gently curving to the side. His lower half of the face was covered by a face plate. It had a grille like structure.   
The face twisted horribly all of a sudden, forming into his old one, a face without a protective mask, with golden-white optics, cold and emotionless. He winced away.   
No .... no ......no!   
Daemon looked at the suddenly so small and fragile form of his human friend. The difference was immense now. Fearsome.... He knew this was what he had been all along. A robot. Giant compared to humans. A Sentinel. Synchrony..... a predator. He reached out carefully and took the sleeping human into his hands.   
Rhyan moved lazily, then slowly opened his eyes. He froze in his movements as he came aware of the fact that he was no longer curled up inside Daemon. His eyes widened abruptly as he saw the tall, dark form looming over him and Daemon saw instincts of flight rise.   
"Rhyan?" he asked carefully, almost afraid.   
Rhyan started to scramble away, gasping, coming up against Daemon's slightly curled fingers. "What...? Daemon?!"   
Daemon nodded slowly, aware his new appearance was frightening. He placed Rhyan carefully on the ground and sat back to give his friend some distance. "I didn't want to frighten you," he said softly.   
"You ... you didn't. This is just .... Oh my..." Rhyan cleared his throat. "You transformed!" he then exclaimed. "That's great!"   
Daemon looked down on the floor. "You think so?" he asked carefully.   
"But ... that's you! You always were a Sentinel, a robot! You were trapped in this car body...." Rhyan walked slowly over to the kneeling robot and gently touched one hand resting on the bent knees. "This is what you are, Daemon."   
"What I was. What others hated. Synchrony." Daemon dimmed his blood red optics. "I'm back where I started...."   
The sensor net still on Rhyan's hands relayed sensations from his human friend and he shivered slightly. And then there was the new link, the one he insisted silently had to be bionic but knew was probably something else. It relayed ..... emotions.   
"No, you are not. You have changed. You are no longer Sync," Rhyan insisted.   
"Part of me still is. You know it."   
"You can control it!"   
Daemon looked at him. "Because you help me," he whispered.   
"And I always will."   
Rhyan smiled at him, then tried to work a particularly nasty kink out of his neck. Sleeping in a car had not been such a good idea after all.   
"What time is it?" he asked.   
"6:34 am."   
Rhyan yawned again. "Breakfast time." He rubbed his eyes. "Let's get something to eat."   
"You know I do not eat, Rhyan," Daemon said.   
"But I do and my body says 'coffee' quite clearly."   
"Your body doesn't talk. And if it would, it wouldn't ask for a drug."   
Rhyan laughed. "Why don't you let me decide what it says....?"   
"Just trying to help out."   
Their familiar banter felt good. Rhyan knew that Daemon was not over his nightmares, that there would be similar episodes, but he was content to know that his friend was handling it. They were both handling it.   
Daemon transformed and opened his door. "Let's get you something to eat."   
Rhyan closed the door without getting in. "Daemon, transform back," he said quietly.   
The Sentinel was silent. "No," he then stammered. "Please don't make me....."   
"You are a Sentinel, not a talking car," Rhyan said softly. "You can use your feet."   
Daemon inhaled deeply, a habit he had acquired some years ago. Then he transformed again and looked at his human friend. "You are right, I know, but ...... I feel so .... strange being back in this body....."   
Rhyan's expression silenced him. <You are Daemon> he then heard in his mind. <You are a Sentinel and you are a transforming robot. Accept it>   
Daemon stared at him. He trembled slightly. <I know>   
<Then let's get something to eat. I'm starving!>   
Daemon smiled and hesitantly walked after his partner. He felt exposed, totally naked in a way, and it didn't feel very good. He walled himself off, trying to ignore everything around him as he and Rhyan left the lab, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hide.   
He was back.

* * *

Daemon was parked at the space port, his car mode giving him a much more secure feeling than his robot mode. Rhyan was leaning against his flank, watching the busy airspace, as always fascinated by this planet.   
"You really want to leave this behind?" he asked quietly.   
"Yes," Daemon answered softly. "I don't belong here."   
Rhyan looked at his friend and sighed deeply. "You do, Daemon. Do we have to go through this again? This is the place you were born."   
"And where I died."   
The human shook his head. "Daemon...."   
"Please, Rhyan, no. I was born here, but my home is Earth. Project is where I belong...."   
Rhyan sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "You are a Sentinel..."   
"No!"   
"You are a Sentinel, Daemon!"   
"Rhyan, stop! I'm no longer Synchrony!" Daemon hissed.   
Rhyan sat comfortably down on the hood and smiled gently at his friend, opening the link. <You have to accept what you were in the past>   
<A killer>   
<A victim> he corrected him. <Your core was almost raped by those Quintessons and what you did was not your fault>   
Daemon was silent. <I am death> he finally said softly.   
<Death is not a person. It's an event>   
<Which I brought upon many>   
"You are what you are. And you are Daemon," Rhyan said aloud. "And you most certainly aren't Death or any incarnation of it. You are a Sentinel."   
Daemon was still silent. "Not any more."   
"You bear the sign."   
Silence again.   
"Daemon, please..... I had to accept what I am, you have to accept what you were." Rhyan gently patted his hood.   
Silence settled again.   
"Rhy....?" Daemon suddenly asked carefully.   
"Yes, partner?"   
"Do you.... do you think it's true?"   
Rhyan knew what he was talking about. "I'm not sure.... I don't feel anything, but then: we are already connected. The bionic link..."   
Daemon sighed softly. "I know. It's just.... how will we ever know?"   
"Ask me in about twenty years and I can tell you," Rhyan joked.   
"Rhy! I'm serious!"   
"So am I. Daemon, we don't know. They can't tell because my body is partly bionic. We have to wait and see what develops. Even if we aren't Interfaced, we are partners."   
"I ...." Daemon stumbled. "I just thought...  it would be ... kinda nice...." He fell into embarrassed silence.   
Rhyan smiled, feeling touched. "Whatever we share, Daemon, I want you to know that this partnership means a lot to me."   
Daemon didn't know how to respond and simply sent a warm wave of energy through his friend.   
Suddenly Rhyan became aware of someone approaching. It was the Sentinel leader Midnight. He smiled at the black robot. He had spent hours talking to the strange robot, had gotten to know the other Sentinels, and generally found them a likable bunch. Daemon felt terribly unwell around them and had simply turned and left the room when it had become too much. Rhyan understood him, but he also understood that Daemon needed to accept himself and his past before anything else.   
Midnight nodded a greeting. "You are leaving?" he asked.   
"Yes. The Project transport should come in any minute."   
"Daemon, can I talk to you?" Midnight addressed the transformed Sentinel.   
Silence. Rhyan had always called it 'patented silence'. Daemon was very good emitting icy silence. He was a professional. There had been times in the past when Rhyan had been close to getting a fit because of it.   
Now the human slid off the hood, gave his friend a little cuff and said, "Don't play stubborn."   
Daemon slowly transformed and looked warily at Midnight. "What do you want?"   
"Talk to you about leaving again."   
"There is nothing to talk about. I am leaving." Daemon's voice was almost totally flat.   
Rhyan rolled his eyes.   
"I don't want to keep you here by force, Daemon, but I want you to know that you can come back here any time."   
Daemon stared at him, stunned. "But...."   
Midnight smiled. "I know who you were, I know who you are. And you always were and always will be a Sentinel. You are one of us."   
Daemon blinked, moving a step away from Midnight, shaking his head. "No... I'm .... I'm not a Sentinel. I never was."   
Rhyan wanted to say something, but Midnight was faster. He grabbed the retreating robot's arm.   
"Daemon! You are a Sentinel! Don't ever deny this." His visor glowed seriously. "I accept that you want to return to Earth. I just want you to know that you have a place to come to when you need to."   
"Thank you," Daemon stuttered.   
"I mean it," Midnight added.   
Daemon only nodded. He was too confused to do more. Luckily for him, almost as if to safe him, the shuttle from Project was coming in.   
"I gotta go," he mumbled and transformed.   
Rhyan looked at Midnight with an almost apologetic expression, but Midnight understood. He smiled, nodding. Rhyan climbed into his partner's car mode and they drove toward the landing pad of the ship.   
"You think they are Interfaced?" Steve now asked, materializing beside his partner.   
Midnight nodded. "Yes. I'm not sure why, but they are."   
The ship lifted off and was soon nothing but a small silver speck in the sky.   
"They'll be back," Steve said, almost as if to himself. "And I'm already looking forward to it."


End file.
